


Some Like It Cold

by starhawk2005



Series: A Light in the Dark [7]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 'virgin' sacrifice, Anal Sex, BDSM, Developing Relationship, F/M, Het, Loki is evil in the best possible way, Smut, fun with clones, jotun!sex at last!, loki's issues have issues, my kinks let me show them to you, portal yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 98,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Part Six of the Light in the Dark series. Loki tries to help Jane reclaim her life’s work. As usual, things don't go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Thanks as always to the wonderful canyr12!  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the Marvel characters, I’m just borrowing them. I promise to return them, although they may be slightly…sticky.  
> Author’s Note: Only three chapters in this series left to go! *squees* And yeah, I know, I’ve bastardized a lot of things here – Norse mythology, how immortality usually works, MCU! and comic!canon for Thanos…I’m an equal-opportunity bastardizer.

Loki stands alone in the blazingly hot desert, not far from where the node of his welter of warning spells is located. He sweeps at the sand with the toe of his boot until he finds it; the sigil of the Bifröst. The earth is still scarred, even if a layer of sand has covered it over. He thinks he can even detect the faint scent of magic lingering on the air.

He prowls the outside edge of the sigil, lost in thought. Loki is sure Thor will want news of Jane, but he is also certain that Heimdall can no longer _see_ her. Loki’s cloaking spell now not only covers himself, but also Jane, as well as much of the surrounding area for many miles, just as a precaution. 

He had reasoned that should anyone be looking merely for the signature of any kind of magic, it would not do to cover just himself and Jane. That would lead any searcher directly to them by default, especially in a Realm such as Midgard where there is generally little magic to be found. Therefore the need to cover a wide range of space and of persons.

But if Loki gives no sign, and if Heimdall cannot observe Jane, no doubt Thor will find a reason to check on them before long. _If only because Mother will badger Thor endlessly otherwise,_ Loki thinks, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he thinks of her, though if anyone had noticed he would have vehemently denied the existence of such sentiment.

As Loki would prefer that Thor and any other Asgardians stay away for now, he decides to send a brief message. With a few hand-motions he arranges light into the Old Norse runes for “She improves” in an expanse of sand next to the Bifröst sigil. Then he allows a hole in his cloaking spell for a mere handful of seconds; that is all the risk he is willing to undertake. With luck, Heimdall will see and report to Thor. 

Loki knows that Heimdall can see but not hear, but he reads the runes aloud to himself before allowing them to fade into pale green mist: “She improves.” 

He _likes_ the sound of those words. He feels cautiously victorious: Jane has returned to him, and things have been, as he just stated to the uncaring universe, improving.

The mere thought of her stirs his lust. It has been several Midgardian days since their first physical joining after his return to her side, and for a short while he indulges himself in plotting, pondering other ways to pleasure them both  while ensuring Jane feels secure and safe. He supposes that too will improve with time and patience, and the latter is a trait not entirely foreign to him.

But after a time he sets these aside as he seats himself on a nearby rock, stretching his senses almost absently back towards Jane’s city until he can _feel_ the torc. Loki knows well that Jane finds his continual presence oppressive, so he has been trying to stay away, at least in the morns when she is busy with other trivialities, like her so-called ‘gym classes’ with Darcy.

Physically, he tries to stay away, but it is difficult not to use magic to check on her periodically.

She is improving, yes. The visions and nightmares are much reduced, and she is now only seeing the mind-healer once a week. He feels she has made good use of the time away from her work, seeing the mind-healer, improving her physical health with Lady Darcy, even finally finishing the ‘unpacking’ at her new abode. 

But until she returns to her life’s work, Loki knows he will not feel that this battle has truly been won. He must discuss it with her at some point, he promises himself. It would not do for her to abandon her passion. Even if the other Midgardians will want to use his interest in her ‘science’ – assuming they learn of it – as evidence that he wants to _use_ her and her knowledge, he hopes she realizes the truth. 

It was _Thanos_ who had required the portal before, not Loki. Idly, Loki permits himself for a moment to wonder how things might had progressed differently, if Loki himself had the power to create portals large and stable enough to move whole armies. As that had not been the case, Thanos had relied on his – Loki’s – plan. And so, here they are.

_ Thanos. _ His continued existence is the one thing that is souring Loki’s happiness over being free once more and of regaining Jane’s trust. As the days pass and his warning-spells remain silent, Loki finds himself increasingly uneasy. The threat looms like a shadow over everything.

The Other had found him, found Jane. _Can Thanos be far behind?_

Loki remembers too well The Other’s threat _. If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no Realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you._ Of course The Other had not bothered to reveal just _how_ Thanos would find him. Loki does not know if he should be warding himself against tracking magic, against mind-reading, or against the eyes of informers. Perhaps The Other was even bluffing? To be safe, Loki must maintain every possible defense he can concoct. Even if it takes months, or _years_.

Loki knows well of Thanos’ penchant for dragging things out as long as possible. The Titanian may well wait weeks, months, perhaps even _years_. Waiting patiently until Loki relaxes his guard again, thinking himself and Jane safe.

_ And only then will Thanos strike. _

It is not a comforting thought. 

Still, Loki supposes that the allure of the Tesseract will tempt Thanos to act faster, and with the Cube on Asgard at the present time, with any luck even if Asgard falls, Loki will be forewarned. Surely the Tesseract is a more enticing target for Thanos than Loki or his mortal?

His (not-)mother’s words sound in his mind: _You could bring her to Asgard for the duration. Until this Thanos is defeated._ Perhaps Frigga has the right of it, and Jane would be safer on Asgard. Not only would she be under Loki’s protection then, but Thor’s as well, and no doubt the Warriors Three would also lend their swords to such an enterprise, particularly if Thor demanded it. Mayhap even Frigga…

But Loki sighs and shakes his head, dismissing the idea, tempting as it is. Even if it would be best for Jane, he is not at all certain that being in Asgard would be in _his_ best interests. He rises from his rocky seat and paces, his eyes on the dry, dusty sand beneath as he lines up the arguments one by one.

Odin, for starters. They had not directly spoken even once during Loki’s last ‘visit’, and at that moment Loki had felt no desire to do so. But now? Loki still feels Odin must answer for the things he did. For stealing Loki away and raising him to hate all that he is beneath this skin of illusion. For raising him to think he was Asgardian, and for abandoning him at his moment of need. For _always_ finding Loki wanting. No matter what Loki had done, Odin had never considered him worthy.

Then there are Thor and Frigga.  Loki shakes his head as he pictures them in his mind. They had implied they would forgive him, but he knows it will not be so easy as that. They wish things to be the way _they_ want. He must act a certain way, be a certain way, be who they want him to be. They don’t see the lie of his birth to be an issue, as they keep insisting to him, and so they demand that he set his rage and pain aside.

_ But it _ is _an issue_. _The ONLY issue._

He does not know if they will require matters to go back to what they were before Loki learned the truth, or if they will expect him to now embrace his true heritage – he grimaces with distaste at the very idea – but he suspects at the least they will demand that he try to forgive Odin. This, he cannot do. Odin will hold himself utterly blameless as usual, and Loki will have to bear responsibility for all. Perhaps he will even he expected to accept punishment, and gracefully, at that!

_ I will own  _ some  _ of what I have done. So long as the All-Father admits my feet were placed firmly along this path by _ him. Yes, Loki will assume his share of the responsibility, but only after Odin assumes _his_.

But Odin will never do so, and will never apologize, of this Loki is certain. The great lie is not a non-issue, despite what Thor and Frigga may believe. 

Now, free as Loki is of them all, he finds himself wondering if he spoke the truth when he told Frigga and Thor that he would make changes.  Even he is not sure whether his apparent capitulation was real, or will ultimately prove part of another ruse. 

He has no reason to mislead Jane. She makes few demands of him, in truth. But his former ‘family’? Of that he is much less certain. It was expedient to say he agreed with their beliefs at the time, but now that he is free and has Jane back…of what use is this supposed ‘family’ to him? Were his words to them only another lie, one so convincing that even _he_ believed it for a time? 

So no, Loki is not naïve enough to think that if he takes Jane to Asgard that a truce would be likely to be maintained. Another concern is that the Tesseract is there as well, and if Thanos will attack anywhere, surely Asgard is high on his list.

But his last counter-argument touches on yet another issue: this all assumes Jane would be willing to go. No doubt great Asgard would fascinate her for a time, but after that fades? There will be little for her to actually _do_ there. Loki imagines if her passion for her stars is rekindled, she would prefer to stay on Midgard and attempt to build her Bifröst. He cannot see how that can be facilitated by Jane being made to wait for long months or years in Asgard, until Thanos is defeated.

Loki sighs once more and seats himself cross-legged on the ground, scooping up hot sand and allowing the grains to pour slowly through his fingers, ignoring the dust that tries to impede his breathing. 

Midgard is better for both Jane and himself in many ways, though Fury and his ilk continue to ignore the threat Thanos presents. They have not asked Loki for his aid, and in truth he is rather loathe to work with them, though he realizes the wisdom in not sharing his antipathy with Jane.

He still does not count himself as a great fan of Midgardians. Barring Jane, of course, and he will admit some fondness for Lady Darcy. But the rest? Even if he never intended to rule them, some part of him still wonders if they would indeed do better with a god-king to guide them. 

_ They are little more than unruly children, _ he thinks unkindly. They ignore the threat of Thanos, they ignore the importance of Jane’s work, all they care about is their money, land, power, or recognition. As if any of it will matter in the end, given the brief spans of their lives.

_ Jane’s life.  _

Loki shifts at the unwelcome reminder, closing his hand over a pile of scalding sand, squeezing it viciously in his palm. Yes, Jane and her short mortal life. Well, if this thing between them proves lasting, he supposes he will have to see to that somehow. It will not do to have his chosen consort die a mere six or seven decades from now. Assuming he can keep her safe from Thanos and his minions, of course.

There is a spell. Not an apple, as the foolish Midgardian legends claim, but there was an Idunn once, an enchantress second to none before she ascended to Valhalla, and a rumoured spell. Loki had heard some talk of it, usually when the elders were deep into their cups of mead, and from that Loki had gleaned some ideas of where such a spell could have been hidden. Odin’s vault seems the most likely of the possibilities. Loki supposes he will need to determine this for himself at a future date, and perhaps even ‘acquire’ it.

_ But there is no hurry_, he thinks as the oppressive sun beats down on his head and weights his armour, until a simple spell alleviates some of the unwanted heat. His consort may be mortal, but she is also youthful even for a Midgardian, and healthy. In addition, as he recalls part of Idunn’s reputed spell was to allow the caster to impose Asgardian health as well upon the receiver. So should the spell exist, if he employs it even on an aged or ill Jane, it should rectify such matters swiftly. Either way, of course he will assess the truth of these rumours long before such becomes necessary. As Darcy is fond of saying, ‘one problem at a time’. 

_ A consort. _

He tastes the word in mouth and mind, marveling at it. Part of him still cannot believe it, that despite losing nearly all, he has still managed to gain _something_. Or rather, someone. And not merely a consort, but so very much more. Beautiful of form, certainly. During the time he had been passed off as Asgardian royalty, he could hardly have been expected to settle for less. But no, in addition to beauty his Jane has also _spirit,_ and an intellect which he suspects may well match his, at least within the realm of her Midgardian ‘science’. 

Not to mention she is someone who trusts him and acknowledges his worth...In many ways, such things are the very _last_ thing he would have expected an uncaring Yggdrasil to have granted him. 

Certainly he had not expected that unburdening himself, sharing his shame and pain with another would lead to him actually feeling…better. He had never been one to share his feelings. _Except sometimes with Mothe-_ Frigga _._ No, he had so rarely spoken of such things. Or rather, he had never revealed his _true_ feelings. The few times he had, his listeners had mocked him, or been unmoved. 

But Jane _listens_ to him, and never makes him feel unworthy or childish. He is also certain that she will never speak any falsehoods in return, nor stab him in the back; she would see such behaviour as far beneath her. 

So strange it is that he, _the_ Liesmith, has gravitated towards someone so fundamentally different from himself in that regard. Still, he supposes this means he _can_ be more open with her and give her the friendship she seems to crave, and she can listen and yield to him the complete trust that he now realizes _he_ craves. 

If his memory serves, the Midgardians have a saying that ‘speaking the truth will allow one to be free’, and he is beginning to see the wisdom in that.

He smirks. _Unruly children with occasional bouts of sophistication._

Either way he finds himself becoming gradually more comfortable with the notion of talking to Jane about deeply personal matters. He can speak frankly about the events that led to him being here on Midgard, without fear of being judged or of having his perspective brushed aside like an inconsequential, annoying fly. A refreshing change.

_ But what of the other matter? _ a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispers.

Loki haltingly opens his hand, staring at the sand still in it. Slowly and tentatively, he concentrates. A moment later his hand turns blue, the colour crawling down his wrist to his forearm, and raised marks and ridges follow in this cyan wake. 

Even though Loki is cloaked from sight and knows no one will spy him, he still feels compelled to check for onlookers, his body shuddering with disgust. When he can finally face examining his hand again, the sand in the palm is thickly rimed with ice. He mutters a curse and dumps it all onto the ground, pulling the _cold_ deep into himself once more and banishing it.

Jane has been remarkably understanding with him, but he cannot stomach the thought of showing her this side of himself. He cannot see any possible ending except that of filling her with as much terror and revulsion as the mere idea does him. He cannot envision her affirming it, nor him feeling increased happiness after such an act.

He cannot be Loki of _Jotunheim_ , not even with his mortal lover. There is no room for it in the new persona he has worked so diligently to create here on Midgard, the new self he wants to be with, and for, Jane.

Loki brushes dust off his hands and clothes as he rises to his feet once more, reaching out his magic again. Soon Jane will be on her way to her abode after taking her customary midday meal with Darcy and Selvig, and he will meet her there. 

As for everything else, well…either Thanos will attack, or he will not. When (if) the Midgardians come running to Loki for aid, he will give it, if only to protect that which is most important to him. Similarly, he will deal with the rest as it comes. Asgard will not likely trouble him here, especially so long as the Bifröst remains broken. Even once it is rebuilt, it is not as though it would not be easy for Loki to evade capture again if he so wishes.

If he _needs_ to cooperate with the Midgardians or Asgardians, then he will do what is necessary so long as it serves his purposes. If not, then he will find another path, as he always has; indeed, he excels at that. As long as Jane is safe and he is free, those are his primary concerns.

Speaking of his mortal, he can _feel_ that she is on her way home now, so he magicks himself into her abode, unable to keep the smile off his face at the thought of being able to engage with her once more. Boredom is its own form of torture as far as he is concerned.

***

Jane shuffles up the stairs to her apartment. She can hear the TV through the door as she unlocks it, and she smiles. She’s unsurprised to see Loki slouched deep into the cushions of her couch, changing the channel every few seconds with a curt motion of his right hand.

Her smile widens at that, though the display frustrates her at the same time. At first he’d been fascinated by the remote, but within a day or two he’d been using his magic instead, and despite his best efforts, he’d been unable to explain just _how_ he’s doing that in any way that makes sense to Jane. There has to be a scientific explanation for what he can do, but Jane wonders sometimes if it will take a more flexible and intelligent mind than hers to figure it out.

Jane sets down her backpack and toes off her shoes by the door, walking up to stand next to him and leaning to kiss him. “Hi there,” she says, still smiling at the incongruity of it all. There’s a Norse god in her apartment, watching television.

Loki shifts forward on the couch to return her kiss, one hand cupping her cheek as a final wave of his other hand snaps the TV off. “Greetings,” he replies, tugging her down to sit next to him. “Lady Darcy and Doctor Selvig are well, I trust?” he asks, though his voice is carefully neutral, as it always is these days when the subject of Erik comes up.

“They’re fine,” Jane assures him, resting her head on his shoulder. They sit in companionable silence for a few moments, as Jane ponders what to talk about with him. She’s given him a bit of a break since he told her what happened during his last ‘visit’ to Asgard, and from that point on they’ve mainly been talking about _her_ family. 

How close she was to her father, and how crushing it had been to lose him to cancer when she was in her early twenties.

How distant and estranged she’s been from her mother, ever since Jane decided she could no longer stay in her childhood home with the grief-ridden, clingy person her mother had become. Not to mention it had been necessary, so that Jane could pursue her dream (and _Dad’s_ dream) and do the Master’s and doctoral programs at Penn State in astrophysics.

How she has not spoken even two words to her mother since.

_ If you walk out that door and leave me now, you’re no longer my daughter! _ That’s what Mom had screamed at Jane’s car as she’d driven away. 

It had hurt – badly – but Jane hadn’t felt like she’d had any choice. She couldn’t stay there, being pulled into her mother’s decaying orbit, letting her own life pass her by just because that’s what Mom wanted them both to do. 

Loki’s face had creased in dismay as Jane had talked about Mom, as Jane knew he understood all too well the pain of being at odds with a parent. It’s something she and Loki have in common.

As Jane leans against his side now, she lets herself wonder for a moment what Mom would say if she learned Jane was involved with an actual _god_ (well, self-proclaimed god). Even though Jane considers herself an agnostic, it is unarguably surreal when she stops and thinks about it. A little intimidating, actually. 

Then her scientific side reminds her that it makes far more sense to think of Loki as a very long-lived alien, among several who just happened to visit Earth in the past and were mistaken for gods and treated as such. It’s far more logical, even if Loki would prefer to view himself as an actual god. 

Science doesn’t do belief and intangibles. Science attempts to measure what is _real_. But as Jane wraps her arms around Loki, snuggling closer into his side, she thinks again about his little trick with the TV, not to mention all the other things he can do. Where does magic fit into her scientific worldview? 

_ It doesn’t. But it’s  _ also _real._ _What a mind-fuck all this is at times… 'Magic is just science we don’t understand yet’. Yeah, let’s go with that._

There’s also the fact that her brain, freed from its usual astrophysics focus, still has many questions for Loki about what he’s gone through, and how he got to this point. She wonders if he’ll be receptive now to answering some of these questions. 

While he’s making an effort to dismantle the wall that had been between them – or he _seems_ to be - and Jane is grateful, the recent kerfuffle over showing her his Jotun form has left her well aware that Loki still carries deep wounds, and she’s not sure she wants to poke at them, even accidentally.

She looks up, her eyes tracing over his profile. “Can I ask you something?” she asks, hesitation creeping into her low tones.

One side of his mouth lifts. “Of course. You can always _ask_ , Jane.”

“But you won’t always answer?” Jane can’t resist teasing.

Loki smiles. “Perhaps not always. But I am trying, am I not?”

“Yes,” Jane concurs. “I have a few…things I want to ask you. About the stuff you told me the other day. And about your big reveal to Fury, back when he imprisoned me.”

Loki’s smile fades, then he sighs and nods, straightening up on the couch a little though his arm stays looped firmly around her. “Then ask.”

Jane pauses a beat, then leaps in: “Tell me about Thanos.”

He stiffens against her, surprise written on his face. Clearly he wasn’t expecting _that_ particular question. “That is a matter that your Director Fury should be asking me about.”

“He’s not _my_ Fury,” Jane contradicts Loki. Yes, she’s been getting along better with the Director since he set her up with Doc Allen, but she would not exactly call Fury a ‘friend’. “But yeah, he probably should be.” That, at least, Jane totally agrees with, even as she understands why Fury might be reluctant to involve Loki in anything to do with Earth defenses.

“He is a fool.” Loki grouses. “They are _all_ fools. I have tried to make amends by offering my help, but they continue to mistrust me.”

Jane nods, her cheek rubbing against the leather of Loki’s armour. “I know. It’ll probably take time-”

Loki cuts her off with a word in an unfamiliar language, but by his tone it’s no doubt a curse. “Time. That is the very heart of the matter. I do not know how _much_ time we have before…” he leaves the sentence to hang. 

Jane nods emphatically. “Which is why I want to _know_ , Loki. I’m a scientist; I deal in facts, and the more facts I have, the better.”

Loki pauses for several heartbeats, and Jane realizes he is debating changing the subject. 

“I do not wish to frighten you,” he admits at last, his hand coming to rest over hers on his thigh. Once again, his hand feels chilly.

“We have a saying,” Jane counters calmly. “'Better the devil you know’.”

Loki snorts dryly. “Very apt, in this particular situation.” He uses the arm around Jane’s shoulders to draw her closer, as if trying to protect her.

He doesn’t seem to know where to start. “What knowledge are you seeking precisely, my Jane?”

She thinks for a second. “What Thanos is, and what he wants.”

Loki lowers his chin and his voice. “He is of a Realm called Titan. The people of that Realm are immortal, like Asgardians, but unlike Asgardians they apparently have sought for a long time to perfect their own race. Using magic, machines, and interbreeding to make themselves stronger, more intelligent, more… _ruthless_. Thanos is one of the products of those experiments, as I understand matters. They designed him to be a brilliant tactician, someone to help them fight and win wars against those whom they believed to be enemies. They also gave him a keen mind, and intended him to be a scientist. Though unlike yourself, his purpose was to create further improvements to their race.”

“All did not go as the Titanians planned, however.” Loki continues, his tone darkening. “Thanos elected to begin his first war much closer to home than any of his makers expected.”

He pauses for breath, and Jane prods him with the obvious. “Thanos killed them?” 

Loki nods again. “Indeed. All of the Titanians, down to the very last man, woman, and babe. As I told Fury at that SHIELD fort, Thanos courts Death. He began trying to win Death’s favour by slaying the ones who had made him, and then once all of Titan was cold and still, Thanos moved to enslaving and killing the denizens of other Realms in their Yggdrasil.”

“The Chitauri are his latest killing force, but he has led many others. He either kills the peoples he encounters outright, or he uses his intellect and knowledge, gleaned from his makers and bred into him, to…alter the races he enslaves. The Chitauri you Midgardians have confronted, they were not always that way – part living and part machine. Even The Other, as I understand it, was once a different creature entirely.”

“But why?” Jane asks, shaking her head as she tries to absorb it all. “What’s the point?”

“Of killing everything?” Loki too shakes his head. “I myself cannot comprehend it. I trained as a warrior – as did Thanos, and all his race – but Asgardian warriors are not taught to kill needlessly or to attack without provocation.” He pauses again, his voice coloured with regret. “I only attacked Midgard without provocation because I saw no other choice lying before me-”

Jane stretches up to brush her lips over his, stopping his bitter words. “I know.”

Loki twines a hand in her hair to steal a longer kiss, then his words resume, his warm breath tickling her face. “I imagine that if Thanos succeeds and eventually everything is dead - the entire Worlds Tree and all the other Trees in the Cosmic Forest – and there is nothing and no one left for him to sacrifice to appease Death, he will realize then the futility of it all.”

“ 'Cosmic Forest’? Is that like a…multiverse?” Jane asks, attempting to translate it into something she can understand. Almost against her will, the astrophysicist part of her mind stirs and tries to wake itself. 

Then an image overrides all else in her head – The Other, looming over her with his blue skin and his vicious, hungry grin – and Jane shivers, her hands clutching tightly at Loki’s armour. _No, I’m not ready to go back there yet. If ever_.

Loki’s hand moves to massage Jane’s back in little circles. “Are you well?”

“Fine,” she insists, pushing the bad memory aside as best she can. “You were saying?”

“Ah, yes. Well, Yggdrasil itself is vast, yet it is only one Tree in the immense Forest, thus I fear it will be nearly an eternity before Thanos becomes cognizant of the insanity of what he is doing.”

Jane squeezes Loki tighter. “One problem at a time,” she answers, smiling a little despite her mood as an image of Darcy fills her mind’s eye. “How can we stop him if he decides to attack here next?” _Best to focus on practical things._

Loki shakes his head slowly, frowning. “I have some knowledge of the weaponry Midgard has available, as well as the things SHIELD has been attempting to create, and while your people did have one weapon which worked very well against the Chitauri fathership, I doubt it will do much against Thanos.”

Jane blinks, trying not to give in to the sense of foreboding. “Why do you say that?”

“Thanos is possessed of an untold ability to absorb and manipulate cosmic energy, and to manipulate matter. It is why he wants the Tesseract; he will absorb its power and use it to lay waste to entire planets at the flick of a finger. Even if Midgard had armaments powerful enough, no doubt he would just absorb their energy before they ever reached him, or turn them back on your own people with his mind.”

He stops, pausing as Jane considers the problem. “Has anyone tried to kill him before?” she asks.

“Oh yes, many,” Loki answers. “Both from a distance and at close quarters. But even if he did not have the ability to reverse long-distance weapons back on their attackers, he is difficult to lay low even in single combat one-on-one. He wears a device that generates a shield of energy around him at all times, such that none can get physically close to him unless he allows it. Which is a rare event, as you might imagine.”

Jane resists the urge to bite her nails. “There _has_ to be a way to stop him,” she insists.

At that Loki smiles a little again, a trace of hope in his voice as he answers. “No doubt. Nature abhors a vacuum, and I am certain the Forest did not birth itself just so an upstart like Thanos could end it. But we have a pressing need to discover the path to victory.”

He tilts his head, eyes half-closed as he considers. “Perhaps it lies in a combination of Midgardian science and Asgardian magic? I have been wondering often of late why it is that out of all the Realms, the Realm Eternal and Midgard always seem to align in some fashion.” He pauses before adding: “Even before the events with Thor.”

It’s something Jane hasn’t considered before, but after a moment or two she wonders if Loki is indeed onto something. Jotunheim had attacked Earth back in the day with no provocation, and Odin had defended them even though the civilizations around at the time probably hadn’t been advanced enough to offer much in return. 

Then Odin banishes Thor here as well, and as Loki had told her, during his initial escape from Asgard the naturally-occurring portal in the palace’s foundation had brought him to Earth. Where he had met Jane face-to-face for the first time.

Not to mention the Tesseract had been here too, even before Thor had been banished to Earth. Jane had learned that interesting detail from stories Tony had shared with her, although he hadn’t known exactly how it had wound up on Earth in the first place.

Can it all be just coincidence? She wonders.

After a moment she turns her attention back to Loki. _Best to end this on hopeful note_. She and Loki have had to deal with too much darkness lately. “Thank you for telling me all that. Maybe _I_ can share it with Fury? Even if he dismisses it, at least I might be able to plant the seed. Or if he refuses to listen, maybe Coulson?” she says, thinking out loud now.

“An excellent notion. The Son of Coul does seem to possess at least some intellectual capacity,” Loki agrees.

Jane can’t help snorting. “'Some’?”

“More than most, less than some,” Loki clarifies with a wink, pulling her into his lap. 

Pleased that Loki is being so open with her, Jane smiles at him and presses closer for his kiss. It doesn’t take long to turn into something much hotter and heavier, Loki’s hands running up and down her back, and a tell-tale bulge pushing insistently against her.

But she remembers how things went the last time she tried making out with Loki (well, _male_ Loki anyway) – with a nasty hallucination. Jane breaks off the kiss, stiffening reflexively as she pulls back from him. 

“Jane?” Loki asks, hesitation in his voice and worry on his face.

“I’m OK,” she assures him. “I just…I want you. The real you, not the female version. That was nice and all, _different_ , but…” She shakes her head, raking a slightly-shaky hand through her hair. “I’m just nervous that it’ll trigger another vision.”

Loki nods slowly, thoughtfully. “I know. And I have been giving it much thought since our last coupling.”

Jane can’t help smirking at him. “Have you?” _Of course he has._

“Indeed,” he smirks right back. “It seems to me that the best way to prevent your visions from interrupting us, other than myself taking female form, is for me to be…helpless.”

Jane’s brows draw together in confusion. “And how, Oh Mighty Norse God, is little old fragile mortal ‘Jane Foster of Midgard’ supposed to make _you_ ‘helpless’?”

“It is not as difficult as one might think.” Loki remarks airily, his hands moving around each other like leaves dancing in an autumn breeze. Two pairs of shackles materialize from thin air next to them and tumble onto the couch with a metallic _chink_.

Their abrupt appearance startles Jane, but she recovers quickly and snags the closest pair, holding it in front of her so she can inspect them. A pair of metal cuffs with tiny runes etched around the curve of each one, joined by a very short length of chain. The metalwork is beautifully intricate, at least to Jane’s untrained eye. “What-?”

“They are ensorcelled,” Loki explains. “Only the one who puts them on can remove them again. And I cannot cast spells while wearing them, nor get free in any other fashion, other than you releasing me of course.”

“Seriously?” Jane asks, and Loki nods, still smiling. Apparently he’s relishing the prospect of being tied up by her again. And yet-

“Why on Earth would you be storing something like this in your Interdimensional Closet?” she has to ask. _In other words, how_ _many_ other  _people have you let tie you up with these?_

Loki chuckles. “Better _I_ possess them than another!” he points out.

_ Can’t disagree with that logic_, she thinks as she turns the cuffs around in her hands. On the other hand, she’s not sure she believes him about the virtues of the cuffs. Could that all be a white lie, designed to make her feel safer so there’s less risk of her hallucinations being set off? While she appreciates the gesture, it begs another question. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea for us to chain your powers right now?” she balks, biting her lip. “Like you said, Thanos could show up at any time.” 

Loki’s expression hardens as he sits up straighter against the cushions. “I have set spells to signal the arrival of either Thanos or any of his agents. Much stronger spells than before The Other took you. I have also strengthened the working which cloaks my presence from the senses of others. Besides, these restraints are easy to remove quickly.” He snaps one around Jane’s wrist to illustrate – before her eyes, it shrinks until there’s absolutely no way she can slip her hand out of it – and shows her the mechanism she has to press to open the cuff. Though it doesn’t work when she tries it, only when _he_ pushes the little catch, just like he explained before.

“OK,” she agrees after that. He’s hopefully right that being tied up will make him seem like less of a potential threat.

_ Although_\- 

Jane rises from the couch, holding the cuffs absentmindedly as she wanders into the bedroom. Loki watches her a moment and then scoops up the other cuffs, which are joined by a longer chain (she assumes those are for his ankles), and ambles after her.

“What the heck am I supposed to bind you to, though?” she asks out loud. Sure, the cuffs themselves might be unbreakable, but she’s pretty sure her bedframe isn’t strong enough to withstand his strength if he pulls hard on them. Ditto any other piece of IKEA furniture in here. Not that she thinks he will actually try to escape, but if they’re going to do it this way, may as well go for broke.

“No need. Just bind my hands behind my back,” he suggests helpfully, though mischief gleams in his eyes, suggesting he is thoroughly enjoying watching her dealing with this new wrinkle. “I can hardly harm you then.”

_ Or touch me, _ Jane thinks with more than a little regret. But he has a point, and besides, how many times has he had Jane in the passive, receiving role? It’s only fair that he should get the chance to just lie back and have things be done to him, at least sometimes!

Her mind is made up. “Take everything off,” she orders him.

His eyebrows lift and he smiles, then he strips his armour off piece by slow piece. He folds every cloth item neatly, laying them on a nearby dresser, and then piles all the metal pieces on top. When he’s totally naked, his excitement already _very_ obvious, he winks and turns his back to her. “I am at your command, my lady.”

Jane steps up behind him, opening the cuffs the way he showed her and securing his wrists. He tests them to show her that he can’t get free, before turning and scanning the room critically. Jane runs her eyes over the lean lines of his body. Even after seeing him nude so many times, she still finds herself surprised by how much smaller he seems without the armour.

“Perhaps the chair?” he suggests, indicating her desk chair in the other room with a motion of his chin. Jane brings it over and Loki sits, then looks pointedly at the other pair of shackles.

It’s Jane’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “I think someone _likes_ being chained up.”

The corners of his mouth turn up. “Well, I’ve been called ‘fit to be chained’ on more than one occasion,” he admits.

Jane snorts and goes to fetch the leg-irons. They lock the same way as the first pair, and Loki is left with the length of chain between his ankles hooked behind the chair-legs, though Jane is convinced that’s only for show. Maybe he can’t actually get out of the shackles, but he’s definitely strong enough to break those chair legs, even in his current bound state.

Stepping back to admire the view, Jane takes off her own clothes, matching Loki’s earlier unhurried pace and neatness. The difference in colour between his pale chest and belly and the reddened, rampant shaft standing to attention between his thighs fascinates her. 

She can’t help wondering for a second what colour his skin is in his _real_ form. Should she press her advantage right now and demand to see him as he really is? He can’t get out of the cuffs without her help, and she can withhold freedom from him until he shows her his Jotun self, couldn’t she?

But Jane dismisses the idea as she kicks off her socks, her last item of clothing. She doesn’t think she can play that card if she wants him to trust her. When he’s ready he’ll show her that side of himself, and she’s pretty sure he’ll appreciate her patience that much more when the time does come.

There’s something else she’s been curious about for a while though, and their discussion regarding Thanos had just reminded her of it. She walks over to him and stretches a hand to brush gentle fingers across his belly, remembering the details of his torture that Loki had revealed to Fury. 

“No way out,” she says softly. 

He blinks up at her. “Is that not the point?”

“No, I’m not talking about the cuffs. I was thinking about the things you told Fury, about how Thanos hurt you. He dripped some kind of acid on you that hurt like hell, but you couldn’t die, because of your immortality. So you had no choice but to give in, or to suffer like that for eternity. Or I suppose, until Thanos ended the universe.” She pauses. “Can I ask about your…immortality? Because I don’t get how it works.”

Loki hesitates and it occurs to Jane that maybe it isn’t reluctance when he pauses like that; maybe he’s just so accustomed to lying that when it comes time to be truthful, he needs a moment or two to _remind_ himself of that?

If she’s correct, that’s kind of sad.

“What is there to understand?” he asks, shifting in the chair and flexing his shoulders a little against his bonds. Jane smirks and settles herself in his lap. His erection is sandwiched between their bodies, and Loki smirks right back at her.

“Well, I’m wondering how long you’ve been alive, for one. For another, all the books and tales – human ones, I mean – imply that immortals never age, but you’ve talked to me about being a baby when Odin found you, and of being a small boy with Thor. And in the mythology, Odin only has one eye, assuming that part of our mythology is true. In most of the stories I’ve heard or read, immortals can’t be wounded at all, or they can heal completely from those kinds of things. I’m just wondering how it works for Asgardians, since clearly it doesn’t work like that.”

Loki nods. “While many of the elements of your myths regarding Asgardians are false, the part about Odin losing an eye is true. He lost it in the last raid on Jotunheim, in fact, a brief time before he found me abandoned. If I believe the tales myself.” His jaw clenches slightly and Jane slips her hands around his neck, massaging the nape until he relaxes under her touch.

Then she blinks as she remembers: “But wait a minute, you’re not really Asgardian, right? So are Jotuns immortals, too?”

Loki flinches, and Jane realizes how insensitive she probably sounded. “I’m so sorry, Loki, I didn’t mean-”

“I know you did not,” he answers her, his body relaxing again though his brow creases, his focus briefly elsewhere until he continues: “I…have not really thought about that. I only discovered my true heritage recently, and I have not considered…”

He pauses again, chin dropping to his chest. Jane is more than ready to drop the subject when he looks up at her again. 

“I am not sure,” he admits. “To my memory we were taught that the lives of Jotuns are warlike and brutal, so I suppose I always assumed they did not live long as a general rule. Probably longer than Midgardians, but no, not immortal.” He seems lost in thought, almost speaking to himself rather than her as he continues: “But then again, Laufey sired me around the time the Jotuns attacked your world, and yet he was still not only alive when Thor led the raid on the Jotuns, but hale enough to mount an attack on Odin at my behest. 

“But even if Jotuns and Asgardians are dissimilar in terms of lifespans, I suppose Odin, in addition to the illusion over me, could have done something to grant me Asgardian immortality. Had I matured too quickly compared to Thor, everyone would have realized that something was amiss.”

He shrugs and then he continues in lighter tones, as if it is not at all important to him. “To answer your earlier question, I am roughly one-thousand Midgardian years old. But yes, Asgardians do age.” 

Jane shakes her head. “That seems so…counter-intuitive to me.”

“It is entirely natural to me. But our races are not so different. Both of us were born – though I will grant you that Asgardians do not reproduce as much or as quickly as you mortals – and grow from children to adults. But Asgardians age much more slowly than Midgardians, it is true.”

“And they never die?” Jane asked.

“I would not say _that,_ ” Loki corrects her. “Just because we are immortal, does not mean that we cannot be _killed_. But it is extremely difficult to kill us. Asgardian armour is a formidable barrier, for one. But even leaving that aside, one would have to chain our life force through a powerful spell first – that is how Odin’s father Borr was killed. You yourself may recall Odin chained Thor’s powers and turned him mortal when he banished him to Earth. It is a similar process. Had Mjölnir not returned its favour to Thor, he would have died as surely as mortals do.” Loki’s eyelashes lower and he swallows hard, as if the memory pains him. Or maybe it’s the sudden reminder of Jane’s mortality? She can’t be sure, but she can comfort him either way.

She nods and leans forward to kiss Loki. “I remember,” she agrees. “I had a front-row seat. I can’t imagine, though, that too many beings out there have the power to turn you guys mortal. And I still don’t get how Odin’s eye didn’t heal.”

“So inquisitive,” Loki smirks. “It is also possible to wound, or rarely, kill us with a powerful weapon. That is how Odin lost his eye. Laufey made an enchanted dagger of ice, drawing upon the power of the Casket of Ancient Winters, and used it to battle my father. He had the same weapon on him when he attempted to kill Odin while he Slept…” Loki pauses. “Before _I_ killed Laufey.”

_ Laufey. Loki’s real father. _ Jane doesn’t say it out loud, though.

“So Thanos’ poison wasn’t strong enough to kill you.”

Loki shakes his head, his lips tightening at the memory. “Terrible as the stuff was, there was fortunately little magic in it. Not enough to lead to my death. Besides, I was too valuable alive, or so Thanos believed at the time. More the fool him.” Loki flexes his shoulders again, and Jane massages them once more until he smiles at her.

“But if Asgardians do age, don’t they get…I don’t know, sicker, slower, as they get older? That’s what happens to us humans.”

“At the moment, the All-Father himself is the oldest resident of the Realm Eternal. As such, he requires the Odin-Sleep at times to regain his vigor; as Asgardians age, they have a choice. They can remain in the Realm Eternal, though they will need to Sleep at times, as Odin does. And it is a need that increases with age. But most Asgardians elect to ascend to Valhalla before that point is reached.”

Jane scrunches her brow, thinking back to the mythology book she borrowed from the library yesterday. _I really need to brush up on my Norse myths, even if most of it is wrong._

“From the little I have read, I thought Valhalla was in Asgard. Or _was_ Asgard.”

Loki shifts underneath her. “No, it is another Realm entirely, though not part of the Worlds Tree. It is in the space _between_ , and is a Realm where the dead and the living may mingle freely. Asgardians who have grown tired of life can elect to go there and join the others who have ascended before. As I understand it, once there they can return to their youth if they so wish, even be eternally young there, but they can never return to Yggdrasil. The Worlds Tree does not suffer them nor the dead to set foot upon it. Or at least, not for long.”

Jane wraps her arms around his neck. “Thank you. All this new information to take in…” The more she thinks about it, the more she believes that Loki did the best he could, given the bad hand that had been dealt to him. Assuming his viewpoint is accurate, of course. 

Left for dead by his real family, taken in but always somehow the outcast in his Asgardian one, then left to deal with the truth alone, and finally, Thanos offering him a choice between endless torture and attacking Earth…Jane’s not sure she would’ve made different decisions. Or done any better.

“Jane?” Loki asks, wondering at her hesitation. “Is there something amiss?”

“No. Just thinking about how best to take advantage of you,” Jane answers, smiling lecherously. He’s been very open with her, very accommodating, and it’s time to reward him.

His eyes gleam at her. “If I may make a suggestion, perhaps a kiss?” He licks his lips, his gaze lingering on her mouth.

“How can I resist that invitation?” Jane agrees. She presses not just her lips to his, but her breasts to his chest, and her belly against his length, and Loki groans loudly as her tongue slips in to find his.

Jane kisses him, savouring the taste of his tongue until she needs to come up for air. She gets up from his lap and steps away, walking slowly around him, stroking the hard muscles of his chest, arms and shoulders as she makes her circuit. On her second pass, she stops behind him to massage the back of his neck and stroke his jet hair (yes, just so much better without all the gel!), and Loki sighs and leans back into her hands, his eyes slipping closed. “I should allow you to subjugate me more often,” he observes with a pleased smile.

“Seems only fair,” she agrees. She takes her time circling back around in front of him, leaning to kiss him again, their tongues caressing slowly. After a time Jane decides to taste some other parts of him, kissing and licking her way down his throat and chest, stroking his nipples lightly.

By the time her lips are hovering over the pulsing head of his shaft, Loki’s eyes are nearly black, pupils dilated to a seemingly impossible size. “I have missed that,” he admits a little hoarsely.

“So have I,” Jane confesses, heat already starting in her core and rising to redden her chest and neck. Soon enough he’ll be deep inside her again, filling her. But first she sweeps the flat of her tongue in a long slide up the underside of his shaft, and Loki curses softly, head lolling back on his neck and his shoulders tensing against his bonds.

He tastes and feels just like she remembers. She laps and teases, taking him deep into her mouth, then pulling back again and running her tongue in slow lines the length of him, his lips parted and his eyes watching her, drinking it all in. 

Soon she’s too impatient to torture either of them any longer. Rising to her feet, she turns away just long enough to cross the room and pull a condom from her night-table drawer. After sheathing him in cool latex, she places a knee on the chair’s seat, and reaches between them to rub the head of his cock in slow circles against her throbbing clit. 

“Yessss,” he purrs, urging her on, watching closely. Jane grinds herself against him, sound pulsing out of her in soft moans and pants, Loki’s breaths falling hot on her skin.

“I wish I could _taste_ your other lips,” he says in a low drawl, and Jane wishes he could, too. “Later,” she answers. “But in the meantime-”

She reaches to wind her fingers through his hair, urging his head to her breast, and Loki’s teeth bite down hard enough to make Jane gasp, before he soothes the ache away with his dexterous tongue. 

He’s definitely not hampered by the lack of his hands at all, Jane notices dreamily, and she rubs herself against him harder as his tongue flicks at her nipple over and over. She squeezes her hand tighter in his hair when he tries to move away and he chuckles, nipping gently at the lush curve of her breast.

It all feels _so_ good, the pleasure curling through her limbs, but Jane’s greed isn’t sated yet. She needs to feel him inside her, stretching and filling her. It only takes a minor position change and she’s centered over his lap, slipping him easily inside her.

“Jane,” Loki groans, his head tilting back, and she can see he’s fighting to stay still, to let her set the pace. She goes slowly at first, wanting to feel every inch of him working slowly into her. Then she moves faster, and Loki apparently can’t hold back any more, his hips rocking up hard to meet each of her thrusts.

By his sounds and movements he’s not going to last long at all. Jane reaches between them to rub herself with two fingers, her mouth pressed against his, and her climax is right _there_ , consuming her like fire, and Loki’s is mere moments behind her. 

They slump together, panting and coated in sweat. Jane releases him with hands made slow and clumsy by her orgasm, and she doesn’t argue when he scoops her up and lays her on the bed, curling around her for an afternoon nap. It’s not like she has anywhere else to be.

***

The next day begins much the same. Jane wakes up and has breakfast with Loki (cold cereal is apparently ‘edible enough’, in Loki’s haughty opinion), then she’s off doing her own thing for a few hours. Yesterday was dance-aerobics class with Darcy, but this morning is her now once-weekly appointment with Doc Allen.

She hasn’t had a hallucination in days, so she feels comfortable enough to drive to the SHIELD base by herself for the first time. Coulson goes out of his way to meet her by the entrance to the building and walk her to Doc Allen’s office – is he trying to make sure Jane is alone? Or that she doesn’t try to sneak into one of the classified areas of the building? – though he seems pleased she’s doing better. Though she often finds Agent Coulson impossible to read.

Jane hasn’t seen Fury since the day after she and Loki reconciled. That’s when Jane told Fury that the necklace was supposed to protect her from detection by Thanos, and therefore she’d changed her mind about wanting it off. Fury had only shrugged, and since then he’d apparently ceased to have any further interest in interacting with her. She’s a little surprised that Fury isn’t trying harder to get her to restart Stark-Foster, but considering she doesn’t feel any motivation to work on it, she should probably be grateful.

Her meeting with Doc Allen also goes fairly well. Although Jane recognizes she still has some deep-seated issues of her own – Loki is not alone in that regard – Loki’s return has helped quite a lot. Her PTSD symptoms are _far_ less than they were, which she supposes proves Loki’s conviction that her inner strength is greater than his. 

Still, she knows so long as she stays away from the lab, she is not anywhere close to ‘cured’. But Doc Allen seems content for today to not push her about that, perhaps because he too agrees that after so many years of working so hard, Jane has earned a break at last. 

Instead he talks to her about her relationship with her father, her mother, and her past romantic relationships. Trying to help her identify any baggage she might be bringing into her current relationship.

“I’m kind of surprised you’re trying to help my relationship with Loki _work_ ,” Jane points out near the end of her session. “I would’ve thought the person who pays your fee – Fury – would prefer Loki and I broke up.”

“My sessions with you are confidential,” Allen reminds her. “I wouldn’t give him any details about Loki. In fact, ethically I wouldn’t even be able to tell him _if_ we talked about Loki.”

Jane raises a brow. “Something tells me that if Fury thought Loki was threatening the planet and you knew something about it, he’d pull a gun on you and _make_ you tell him.” Both Fury and Loki are ruthless in their own way.

“He could try,” Allen agrees, unperturbed. “But then I’d never get any SHIELD agents to trust me again. Confidentiality is the cornerstone of gaining trust in one’s therapist. I’d have to leave, and he’d be foolish to let me go after the rapport I’ve built with so many SHIELD personnel. Especially given how I’ve lasted here far longer than any other mental health workers here.” He pushes his glasses back up on his nose, smirking at Jane.

“Just make sure your boyfriend has no plans for world domination again, and we’ll be covered on all fronts, OK Jane?”

Jane laughs. “Sounds like a plan.”

Their session ends and she drives back to Puente Antiguo. She parks outside Izzy’s to join Erik and Darcy for their habitual lunch together. Erik takes off, and as Jane has nothing better to do, she tails Darcy to the landromat to keep her company for a couple more hours while Darcy does what seems to be a month’s worth of laundry all at once.

Jane then picks up a few groceries, stops at the gas station to fill up the Pinz’s tank, and then it’s a ridiculously short drive back to her place. 

Loki’s sitting on her couch once more when she arrives, but the TV is off this time. 

Jane drops her bag and shoes by the door as usual and then brings the groceries into the kitchen. After a few minutes of putting everything away, Loki hasn’t budged so Jane walks back to the couch. “Loki? Is everything OK?” 

He holds up a book, and Jane recognizes it as the one on Norse mythology that she checked out of the P.A. library a few days ago. It’s the same mythology book Erik found the first time, and that memory brings a brief pain to her chest, remembering how she and Erik had been on much better terms at that time.

“Did I not tell you most of your so-called Norse mythology is entirely invention?” His tone is not accusing, merely curious.

“You did. I was just wondering _how_ far off it is.” She takes the book, sitting next to him and flipping the pages until she finds the story about Sleipnir. It’s not an accident, her interest in this particular story; she remembers from his battle with Thor behind her trailer that this is a sore point with him.

“Like this one. You-” At the very last second, Jane remembers she wasn’t supposed to have overheard that part of the conversation, and she hurriedly changes it to- “ _I_ was reading this story about you supposedly turning yourself into a mare and birthing an eight-legged horse. That can’t be true in any way, right? I mean, you can obviously take female form, I’ve experienced that myself, but you never mentioned any children…animal or otherwise.”

Loki rolls his eyes but takes the book from her hands gently, closing it with a decisive snap and setting it aside. He grasps her hand and pulls her carefully into his lap before explaining. “I _can_ take animal form, though it is much more difficult than the kind of shape-changing you have yourself witnessed. I can only take forms that are approximately the same size as _this_ one, and horses are rather much larger than myself!” He smiles dryly and shakes his head. “Trust me when I tell you that I have _no_ children, Jane. That I know of, at any rate.”

“So there’s no truth at all?” Jane prompts him.

“Only to the existence of Sleipnir, and that I had a hand in his creation. I had just turned the age when one is thought to become a man, as Asgardians measure such things. At such a point, it is customary for the boy to prove his worthiness to be counted among the adults, by demonstrating his prowess at some laudable task. Most newly minted men choose to demonstrate their talents with weaponry. That is what Thor did.”

Loki pauses, his lips pressed tightly together, and Jane wraps her hands around his neck and leans in to press a soft kiss to the taut line of his mouth. He blinks, his expression softening, though he continues more hesitantly: “I suppose I could have displayed my ability with knives, but even at that tender age, I valued my magic above my skills as a warrior.” Loki pauses again, his brows flexing. 

“So,” he continues after a long moment, “I thought to use my magic to create something. Now, as then, I habitually cast illusions. But I can also turn my magic to other things – warning-spells, healing myself, bending portals – as you have seen.”

“So, you made the horse with your magic?” Jane guesses.

Loki nodded. “Exactly. But I erred in my spell – creating life is a complex process! - and the result was a horse, but with eight legs.”

Jane nods. She can see how Thor’s warrior friends would have made fun of Loki’s offering, especially in a culture which apparently values swordsmanship before magical ability. That doesn’t explain how their version of the tale made it all the way to Earth, but she supposes that’s not really all that important.

“But Sleipnir proved not to be hampered by the extra legs at all, and soon became Fath- _Odin_ ’s favourite warhorse, so…” Loki breaks off, looking uncomfortable again, then finally concludes, his voice much quieter: “I remember it as one of the few times I felt he approved of me and my particular gifts. Mostly, I remember him always seeming to prefer Thor.”

Jane squeezes her arms around Loki in a tight hug, then searches her brain for something else to ask him before the sadness in his eyes becomes too deeply entrenched.

“And what about this woman, Sigyn, who is supposed to protect you from the venom of those poison snakes?”

Loki gives his head a little shake, as though trying to wake from a nightmare. “Of that I know nothing. I have never encountered a woman in _any_ Realm of that name. For all I know, it is a bastardization of _your_ name, my Jane. That we were fated to meet.”

Jane laughs, though the idea doesn’t really amuse her. “You’re kidding, right? I’m a scientist, I don’t buy into ideas like ‘destiny’, ‘prophecy’, or ‘fate’.”

With an elegant shrug of his shoulders, Loki answers: “I myself do not feel wedded to prophecy. This ‘Sigyn’ is most likely just an invention of the Midgardian mind, like so much else in your myths and legends.”

“Good,” Jane can’t help joking, though she feels relief as well. The notion that all the events which have happened to her – and Loki – were pre-determined does not make her comfortable at _all_. “I don’t want any competition.”

Loki gives her a sharp look and a smirk. “You need have no fear of that, little minx.”

A blush heats her cheeks as she glances away. To distract herself, she looks around the room until her eyes stop on the clock hanging on the wall. “Oops, almost dinnertime,” she declares.

Normally she would order something in or maybe go out somewhere with Loki. That’s what they’ve been doing every night since she started living here again. 

Jane gives Loki another quick kiss and rises to her feet, returning to her backpack and digging through it for her wallet. She bites her lip, shaking her head at the lack of bills in it. She can’t afford to keep eating out, especially not if she plans to drop Stark-Foster…and there’s no way she’s asking Loki for money. That’s a total non-starter for her.

“How about I make us supper tonight?” she asks Loki. He nods amiably, trailing after her to the kitchen and perching himself on one of the chairs as she putters around trying to put something edible together. She tries not to feel intimidated by the fact that she is cooking for someone who is probably accustomed to grand banquets and fine dining. There is no way in hell she can measure up to _that_.

“Loki, would you tell me the real story behind the adventure where Thor dresses as a woman to get Mjölnir back from the Frost Giants? That was the other really interesting story I saw,” Jane asks as she fills a small pot with water, adds salt, and starts to heat it on the stove. “Apparently you dressed as a bridesmaid, which I find a lot easier to picture, given your apparent abilities,” she adds with a smirk.

“'Dresses as a woman’? _Hah_!” is Loki’s snide response. “As if that walking side of beef could _ever_ wear anything so delicate as a maid’s clothing. No, it was one of my illusions over us both. It was a dare Fandral made when we all were youths, you see, that we should disguise ourselves as Jotun maids and then…”

Jane listens fascinated as the water boils. Next she pours in the macaroni and cuts a few carrots and celery into sticks as the noodles cook. She brings the veggies and a couple beers to the table, before stirring the milk, butter and cheese powder into the pasta. It’s not a huge amount of food, but thankfully Loki doesn’t seem to eat as much as Thor.

She finishes stirring, laughing at the ridiculous conclusion of Loki’s tale – truth is apparently much funnier than fiction in this particular case! - and she sets the plate of pasta down in front of him. She takes the seat beside him, digging into her own portion, though a moment later she glances up to see Loki staring down at his plate.

“What in Yggdrasil _is_ this?” he remarks with obvious distaste, poking at a macaroni noodle with a tentative fingertip. 

“Uh, we call it…'mac and cheese’?” 

Loki’s nose wrinkles. “Anything _this_ colour cannot possibly be fit for consumption by man, god, or even beast.”

Jane blinks. “Well, it may not be your typical Asgardian feast,” she agrees cautiously, “But I eat stuff like this all the time, and I’m still here.” Sadly, Jane’s not exaggerating. Beyond frying eggs and boiling water for pasta, her culinary skills don’t extend much further than pancakes, Hamburger Helper, ramen noodles, and PB&J sandwiches. Instant and cheap were her bywords in college, and that had only become more entrenched when she found herself with a Ph.D. and absolutely no granting agencies willing to fund her ‘crazy’ wormhole theories.

“Perhaps, but that does not mean you cannot do better,” he says reprovingly.

“If you don’t like what I’m offering, please be my guest _Chef_ Loki,” she snaps back, her irritation rising as she indicates the messy kitchen behind her with a sweep of her arm. Of course she already knows the answer she’ll get; he’s a Prince after all, and she’s pretty sure he’s never actually had to cook anything a day in his life. 

“I have little skill in cookery,” he admits affably, inclining his head towards her, “beyond camp food. But while the latter is usually a temporary situation, you _live_ like this.” He shakes his head, then mutters absently. “Did I not once say to you that you mortals do not know how to live?”

Jane folds her arms and glares at him. “Look, I don’t have the time or energy to cook a five-course tasting menu every night. When you’re a researcher-”

But her words dry right up. She’s not a researcher any more now, is she?

Loki sighs and bends forward to lay a warm hand over hers. “I intended no insult, my Jane. But surely a mind as keen as yours would function even better, if you fed it healthier fare?”

Before Jane’s eyes, her meager meal of Kraft Dinner has vanished (though the plate of cut-up veggies remains), replaced by several large loaves of bread, bowls of various fruits and vegetables, and a steaming bowl in front of each of them that appears to be some kind of stew with meat and vegetables in it. It looks like food of human origin to Jane, which makes her wonder with a scowl – where did he get it from?

“Did you steal all this?” she complains, waving a hand at the impromptu feast.

Loki looks crestfallen, as if he expected a more admiring reaction from her. “Does it matter? If you must eat, you might as well eat well.” 

“It matters to _me_.” She does her best to hold on to her annoyance, though the aroma of the stew is making her mouth water.

Loki grants her an imperious eye-roll. “I am a God, and I say that as my consort, you require something less pedestrian than meals filled with fake flavourings and not an ounce of discernible nutrition-”

“You did _not_ just play the ‘I am a God’ card again,” Jane huffs. “I don’t care who or what you are, Loki; you can’t just take whatever you want, whenever you want. It’s _wrong_. And don’t start giving me that ‘I’m the God of Mischief so this is my nature’ crap.”

Loki sits back with his hands up in surrender, his expression softening. “Very well. I do not wish to fight with you, Jane. Therefore I will pay for what I conjured.” He makes a pass in the air with one hand, his eyebrows coming together briefly in concentration. “But surely you see that you deserve better?” he persists. “You cannot survive on coffee and pizza alone,” he continues, his accent giving the words an exotic sound. “And even those foods that others, like your Izzy, prepares for you, those are hardly healthy, from what your ‘television box’ says.”

Jane sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Loki _would_ be influenced by the TV. Which doesn’t change the fact that he’s right.

“Look, I’m not much of a cook, OK?” _And it’s not like I have the time,_ she starts to say, before again, she’s struck by the fact that it’s no longer true. She has all the time in the world these days.

“I may plead the same, but surely there are ways to learn?” He glances over at Jane’s computer. “Perhaps your ‘Internet’?”

Jane looks at Loki quizzically. “Are you saying you want to learn to cook better…together?”

He shrugs and smiles as he scoops up a bite of stew. “Why not? It has less potential to annoy our provisional allies at SHIELD, than myself continuing to steal.”

She smiles too as she tastes her own stew. Teaching a Norse god how to cook. Now she has officially heard _everything_.

***

Another surprise comes a few hours after dinner when Loki, looking thoughtful, asks her if she would like to take a walk out in the desert. The night air is chilly, so Jane snags a jacket from her closet, and minutes later they walk past her empty lab. 

It looks dark and neglected, and Jane pulls her coat tighter around her as she battles a pang of guilt.

They pass the lab, moving deeper into the desert, and Jane shivers involuntarily at the memory of the prickling sensation in her mind. She remembers too clearly how it felt just before The Other had yanked her into the air with some kind of tractor beam, or whatever the fuck it had been, and it had happened somewhere around _here_.

Loki notices her shudder and draws her against his side, putting his arm around her shoulders. His voice is soothing as he murmurs: “You are safe, love. None shall harm you ever again. I'll kill anyone who dares to lay hands on you, this I swear by the roots of Yggdrasil.”

Jane shivers again at the threat in his tone and shakes her head. “I know, Loki. It’s just…this is where I was taken from. Approximately.” She scans the low dunes, looking for obvious signs of the spot from where she’d been yanked into the air, but the wind must have erased them by now.

“Forgive me, I did not wish to remind you of such unpleasantness. Perhaps you would prefer it if I-” He scoops Jane up in his arms and cradles her to his armoured chest. She is startled into giggling, though she wraps her arms around his shoulders as he carries her deeper into the desert. 

They must walk like that for at least ten minutes, until the bright lights of Puente Antiguo are far behind them. At that point he finally sets Jane down, before conjuring his familiar green cape and spreading it on the faintly warm sand like a beach blanket. He lies down and beckons to her until she settles down next to him, both of them left looking up at the brilliant expanse of the Milky Way unscrolling above them.

How long has it been since she’s just stopped and gazed at the stars like this? Jane can’t remember.

“Would you educate me on your constellations?” Loki invites in gentle tones. “They differ significantly from what can be seen from the towers of Asgard.”

“OK,” she agrees. It seems harmless enough. “There’s Ursa Minor, the Little Bear.” She starts, pointing out the various stars that make it up. She continues with Ursa Major, Draco, Hercules… 

His arm is around her, and he’s warm and solid, and after a while Jane stops speaking, feeling lulled…until Loki makes a twisting gesture with one hand and her dog-eared old notebook appears between his long fingers. “I found this in the bedroom,” he tells her as he flips to one particular page. _That_ page. “Thor drew this for you, I presume?”

Jane stiffens slightly. That moment happened in another life, or so it feels to her now. “Yes. SHIELD had taken all my work – for the first time, anyway – but Thor got this book back for me, and he was trying to comfort me by telling me not to give up, that I was on the right track with my wormhole theories.”

After a moment or so of silence between them, Loki looks over at Jane, his gaze penetrating. “Tell me why you have chosen to abandon your stars, Jane.”

She blinks slowly at him. “Isn’t it obvious?” 

Loki sighs and draws her closer within the circle of his arms. “Because you found evil out there? Or rather, it found you?” 

“Isn’t that enough?” Jane retorts, her voice sharp. “I’m not a warrior like you. Or Thor. I went looking for knowledge, not to be kidnapped, chained up, and tortured with magic.” _Nor to be dumped,_ the negative little voice in her head chimes in. But Loki came back and has been _trying_ , so she resolves not to throw that in his face.

“As I said to you once in a slightly different context, there is evil to be found everywhere. But, there is _also_ good. Do you not want to be the one who will allow Midgard to join at last with the other Nine Realms?”

Jane squeezes her eyes shut, horrified to feel a tear leaking from each. “I…I don’t know anymore.” She can feel Loki’s fingertips against her cheeks, gently wiping the moisture away.

After a silence, he asks, though he stumbles over the last word: “Tell me, Jane, why did you become an…astrophysicist?”

She’s been doing this for so many years, that it actually takes Jane a long moment to remember the _why_. “I guess at first because that’s what my Dad was,” she explains quietly. “He was fascinated by everything celestial – stars, black holes, planetary bodies – and he made _me_ fascinated. I used to spend hours listening to him and Erik talk about the latest discoveries…” She pauses, swallowing hard. “And I guess when he died, at first I continued my studies just because it was a way of holding onto his memory.” Even so many years later, thinking about his death still hurts.

Loki’s arms tighten, pulling her closer against his chest as two more tears spill out, though Jane continues on. “And then one day, I don’t know, I was just looking at some of Dad’s old notes on Einstein’s general theory of relativity and I just…” She stops, searching for the right words. 

His hand strokes her back carefully. “I do not pretend to understand your ‘science’, any more than you understand my magic. But I suppose it is akin to discovering the methods for casting a new spell?”

“Close enough,” Jane agrees, and then the old excitement begins to infuse her voice. “See, I realized if I could create enough dark energy – contained safely, of course! - then I should be able to use it to create a small, stable singularity, and then-”

Her words break off, partially because she’s sure Loki has absolutely no clue what she’s rambling on about, and partially because, well…again, where had it all ended up? With Jane running afoul of questionable government organizations, and being harmed by vicious aliens…

And ending up in the arms of not one, but _two_ Norse gods. Even if the relationship attempt with the first ‘god’ had fizzled.

“I do not,” Loki then says in a low voice, “understand how to generate pathways between stars. Well, beyond using the naturally-occurring pathways that already exist. I suppose if I could explain to you how to search for, or to alter them, that would be similar to what you are trying to do with your ‘science’. And yet, to create one from thin air, just as the Bifröst in Asgard does?” He smiles. “Truly that would be miraculous and admirable.”

Jane blushes, though she’s not sure it’s noticeable in the dark, but Loki isn’t finished. “Matters work differently here on Midgard. In Asgard, I suppose you would consider things archaic – the men are usually the fighters or scholars. Few women aspire to do the things that you have, Jane. Or if they do, they face many obstacles, as Sif did when she chose the path of the warrior. To attempt what you are doing, especially in the face of such derision from your peers?” He reaches to tuck a blown strand of hair out of her face, looking thoughtful. “I suppose you and I have that in common.”

“Both outcasts?” Jane observes. She adds that mentally to the short list of things they have similar experiences with. Number one: bad parents. Number two: a history of being on the outside looking in.

Loki nods slowly. “So it would seem. But I think you and I also well-matched in our passion for _knowledge_. You for your Rainbow Bridge, and me for magic.” His eyes sharpen. “I think even now, as much as part of you would prefer not to, you feel the pull of the stars, the thirst to find a way to get to them.”

Jane takes a deep breath and pushes on his chest until Loki releases her. She sits up, propping her head in her hands, and Loki immediately sits up with her, his voice coaxing. “Tell me what is stopping you, my Jane. You know that I will allow no further harm to come to you. Did I not promise that?”

“I know. But even you can’t prepare for every possible contingency, and I…I just don’t want to take _any_ chance that I’ll ever wind up in a situation like that ever again,” Jane finally admits in a small voice.

“There is very little in this life – whether one lives either an immortal or mortal one – that is totally without pain or risk, little one.” He hesitates, reaching to stroke Jane’s cheek. “Before I made the decision to return to you, Frigga said much the same to me about love. That I could protect myself, yet be alone, or I could take the risk and be with another. Here is yet another example of that principle.”

Jane gets to her feet, agitation making her pace back and forth. “It’s _not_ the same,” she argues. “There are other things I can study. Safer things. I don’t even want to set foot in the lab again, Loki!” She turns stubbornly away from him. _Damn him and his 'silver tongue' anyway._

There’s the creak of leather and rustle of cloth as Loki rises to his full height behind her, and for a second Jane’s shoulders stiffen. She remembers a moment eerily similar to this exact one. Herself in the chilled desert at night looking up at the stars, and standing right behind her an unpredictable Norse god. She flinches then, remembering Loki jamming one of his biting knives into her back.

Then she shakes her head slightly. _That didn’t happen. It’s another false memory courtesy of The Other. Yes, you were here alone in the desert with him, and you were nervous about saying the wrong thing and getting him angry, maybe even angry enough to kill you, but…you were wrong about him._

_ Loki has  _ never _hurt me._ Even in the beginning, when he’d threatened her in dreams, it had been all talk, hadn’t it? _Well, never_ harmed _me,_ she corrects herself as another memory comes to her, a correct one this time, of Loki spanking her in the middle of a moonlit forest glade.

“You required time to recover from what was done to you, and no one would begrudge you that. But surely to abandon your life’s work forever, to turn your back on that goal which up until recently brought you such joy and purpose…Can you not see that if you do so, then The Other and Thanos have already emerged victorious?” Loki insists as he steps forward to press against her back, winding his arms around her waist.

Jane sighs and tilts her head against his chest, looking back up at the stars.

“Do not allow them to win, Jane Foster of Midgard. You are, as I am, a seeker of knowledge. It is what you were born to be. Do not let these foulest of creatures turn you from your path,” Loki urges her. 

Jane shrugs helplessly, unable to stop herself from uttering excuses that sound lame even to her. “But...I don’t even know where to begin! The lab is a mess, and-”

“Then,” Loki insists, turning Jane firmly around to face him. “Begin _there_. Start with one pile, if you must.” The corner of his mouth quirks. “I had much the same to do in my chambers in the palace at Asgard, before I returned to sue for your forgiveness.”

At Jane’s curious look, he clarifies: “I had…damaged some things in my grief and rage. Frigga insisted I set all to rights before she and Thor would permit me to return to Midgard.”

Jane chuckles at that. “She made you clean your room? Mothers are the same everywhere, I guess!”

“So it would seem,” Loki concurs peacefully. “So, would you promise me to at least set foot in your laboratory and start, even if slowly, to organize it? Perhaps as early as tomorrow’s dawn?”

“OK, OK,” Jane agrees at last, looking up past Loki’s head at the beautiful sky-scape sprawling above her.

_ Admit it, you’ve missed it. _

_ Yes. Yes, I have. _

She raises a brow at Loki. “I see you’re not falling over yourself to offer to _help_ me.”

Loki snorts. “Even if SHIELD and the self-proclaimed ‘Iron Man’ would suffer my presence in the vicinity of anything to do with your Bridge, I do not understand your ‘science’ enough to be of much use, I fear. No doubt Lady Darcy would be of much greater assistance in this matter.”

Jane nods. “Maybe after a day or two. I think I want to start on my own. Just…have some time with my own thoughts, I guess?”

Loki gives her an understanding nod and holds out a hand to her. “As you wish, my dearest.” 

Jane takes his proffered hand and they walk at a leisurely pace back towards her apartment. 

Once there Jane prepares to take a shower, but after a moment’s thought she decides she needs something else tonight. The trailer certainly hadn’t had the luxury of a bathtub, and having one in the apartment is still a novelty, one that she thoroughly enjoys.

“I’m going to have a bath,” she tells Loki. He nods, settling on her couch and turning her TV on with an idle motion of his hand, barely glancing at the screen before jumping from channel to channel.

“Um…want to join me?” she asks him a little shyly. Even given Loki’s recent efforts, Jane still finds sexual contact with him not as easy as it was before her kidnapping. Maybe this moment can be where she’ll find that deeper connection with him that she used to feel.

A slow, wicked smile graces his face. “I cannot promise that I will prove able to keep my hands to myself, little one.”

She laughs. “I hope you won’t! I can always use help washing my…back.” She winks at him then walks away, glancing over her shoulder in his direction, and there’s a familiar, _welcome_ predatory air to the way he stalks into the bathroom in her wake, his eyes glued to her movements as she runs the water and they both strip down.

Loki climbs into the hot water first, taking up pretty well all the space in the tub, then he reaches up to take Jane’s hands, guiding her into settling against him with her back pressed to his chest, spooning under the water. Jane sighs contentedly and allows her head to rest in the curve of his neck.

After a beat his hands slide up her arms and begin to massage her shoulders, until Jane groans happily. It’s no secret that Loki is happy too; another part of him, a _hard_ part of him, is poking insistently into the back of her leg.

“Forgive me,” he says as if reading her mind. “Such are the dangers of bathing with a lovely companion.”

“No problem,” Jane assures him, turning until they’re face-to-face. She can feel an answering heat sparking in her own belly. 

Still, she takes her time soaping him up. He closes his eyes and submits without complaint, a small smile playing on his lips as Jane works shampoo into his hair. She presses herself against the other end of the tub to give him some room to rinse off, then she starts massaging soap into his shoulders, chest, and arms, marveling as always at just how _solid_ he is. Thor might _look_ powerful, but Loki is no less strong in his own lean way.

His eyes intently follow her every move, enough to make Jane blush slightly. He stands to allow her to wash his lower half, though his voice is a little hoarse as he removes her hands from him after the briefest washing of his rigid shaft. “Enough. _My_ turn, little tease.”

He sits back down and pulls her into his lap, her back facing him, and Jane can’t help smirking at the feel of his length throbbing hot against her. Loki’s fingers are quick to work shampoo into her hair, massaging her scalp gently, and Jane allows her eyes to close and her spine to sag into him in pure enjoyment.

Her favourite sandalwood soap makes for a slick rub as he works it over her entire body (even, carefully, under the necklace that he still refuses to take off her, even for something as brief as a bath), moving at a pace slow enough to make her dig her nails into the floor of the tub, though he cleverly avoids all her most sensitive spots. I’m _the tease? Yeah, right._

Loki’s hand worms between their bodies and a soft pinch on her backside draws a gasp from her. He finds this all very amusing, judging by his low laugh. Jane jerks hard enough to slosh water over the rim of the tub when his hands unexpectedly cup her breasts, smoothing the soap onto her taut nipples.

“Always so very responsive,” he whispers into her ear, chuckling. Caressing fingers trace along her spine, gradually working their way down, though he pauses before moving in for the kill. He urges her to shift up onto her knees, before his touch finally makes its way into the curls and folds between her legs, which are slippery from more than just water.

Jane exhales another gasping breath through her parted lips, shuddering as he explores her fully. She luxuriates in the warmth of his hard chest pressed against her back as his fingers work faster, lingering on her clit and circling around, then flicking it lightly.

Oh God, she can’t take it anymore. She needs him, right _now_.

Brushing his hands away, she rinses the remaining soap off herself quickly with quivering hands. “C’mon, let’s move this…somewhere else.” 

She doesn’t even bother to let the water out, she just grabs a towel and dries off quickly, Loki eagerly mirroring her actions. Jane grabs him by the hand and practically drags him into the bedroom after her.

He’s compliant enough, allowing her to draw him down on top of her on the bed, though after a languid series of long wet kisses, he hesitates. “Jane, did you wish me to conjure the restraints?”

“No,” she tells him. “I haven’t had a hallucination in days, and besides, I want _you_. No bells and whistles. No shape-changing or handcuffs, tricks or toys. Just you and me and this bed.”

Loki gifts her with a smile that is both sweet and hungry. “Then let it be as you wish, my Jane.” 

His warm weight pushes down on her, and Jane leans her head back, displaying the pale column of her throat, and Loki growls softly as he leans in to softly nip at the side of it, just above the coil of the necklace.

Skin slides deliciously against warming skin as Loki drifts lower, hovering over Jane in a sort of effortless push-up with his full weight braced on his elbows as he kisses a path along her collarbone. First in one direction, then the other, then trailing down and between her breasts.

A soft groan escapes her when his teeth close on a nipple, tugging. She arches up against him, hips jabbing up and her fingers digging into his skin.

Loki lingers there, taking the time to toy with her, until Jane is all but begging him for more. Sweat is beading on her skin, trying to paste their bodies together even as Loki moves lower at last, his shoulder maneuvering between her thighs, his intense gaze locked on her face as he licks his lips in the most lewd way Jane has ever seen from him (and that’s saying something), and lowers his mouth to her moist skin.

His tongue laps at her slow and steady, his fingers coming up to entwine with hers before he traps their joined hands against her hipbones, holding her writhing body down for his tender assault. 

“Loki,” she gasps out as he settles in on her clit for an extended tease. She has no clue what he’s doing; his tongue is dancing in a pattern that seems to repeat but otherwise makes no sense to her.

Her muscles flex and strain, fingers squeezing his as her eyes shut tightly. A climax is there, just out of her reach, she can get there if he’ll give her a fraction _more_ \- “Please,” she begs breathily, her head twisting on the mattress. 

Loki chuckles quietly before planting a soft kiss against her quivering flesh. “Always, my Jane,” he assures her. Deftly he loosens his grip on her left hand, stroking down her hip and trailing ever lower until he can sink two long fingers into her warmth.

Then there’s nothing but tongue and fingers and pressure and heat and slickness and everything inside her spooling tighter and tighter until Jane gives in with a loud cry, shuddering uncontrollably. Loki continues stroking, his touch gentler as he rides out her spasms.

“What-” she tries to ask a few minutes later, her brain and tongue sluggish. She takes a breath and tries again. “What the heck were you _doing_ to me?”

She realizes she’s being vague, but he seems to understand as he moves up the bed and hovers over her again, all his weight on his wiry arms. “You are mine,” he says possessively, and it doesn’t bother Jane as much as it once might have, “So I thought to indicate my ownership by writing my name in runes over and over on your sweetest spot.” He grins cheekily, tongue darting out to lick her flavour from his lower lip.

Jane has to laugh, though she blushes too. “Tonguing the Norse ABC’s just isn’t kinky enough for you?”

“You were not complaining in the moment, as I recall,” he chides her, but the glint in his eye tells her he’s not being serious. He gestures and a condom packet materializes beside them in mid-air, tumbling end-over-end til it lands on the mattress. Jane looks at Loki quizzically. “You don’t want me to return the favour?“ she asks, trying to slide her hands between them.

“Another time,” he refuses, catching her wrist and pressing the packet into her hand instead.

His hands push deeply into the pillow on either side of Jane’s head as he eases inside her, filling her completely. Jane groans, curving up into him, her hands clutching at his narrow hips.

But Loki is in no rush. They rock together, slowly and pleasurably, though occasionally Loki readjusts, changing the angle to thrust against a new spot. Even though Jane feels like she can’t get enough air into her lungs, she wraps her legs around his thighs, caressing the backs of his legs with the soles of her feet, trying to give him back something for what he’s giving her. 

His breath falls hot on her face, puffing shorter strands of her hair off her forehead even as long locks of his hair fall to tickle her cheeks. He bows his head until their foreheads touch. “At the risk of sounding repetitive,” Loki murmurs to her, “I thank you for your trust.” Then he smirks, as he ends the sentence with a slightly harder thrust inside her.

Her breath catches as she smiles back at him. “Thank you for being more-” another gasp of delight, “-open with me.” _He’s doing that-_ gasp! – _on purpose._

He flashes her one of his sweet smiles, inclining his head to capture her mouth in a slow kiss. As he devours the sounds she’s making, his hands come up, grasping her wrists firmly and pinning her hands over her head. A moment later his hands glide higher, pressing their hands palm-to-palm and he can entwine their fingers once more, even as he continues to pin her hands to the pillow.

Loki speeds up by degrees, until he’s moving inside her fast and hard, and finally he frees a hand and slips it between them to knead her clit, and another climax consumes her, starting from where their bodies are deeply enmeshed, and racing outward, everything else driven miles away.

By the time she comes down he’s spilling into her, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. He stays arched over her, his eyes closed and his breaths hitching in his throat, before he rolls over onto his side. He pulls her with him, drawing her to rest against his body.

For a while they lie there, sated and damp. Despite how utterly spent and relaxed Jane feels, her brain clicks on. Loki’s earlier words drift through her mind, especially _The Other and Thanos have already emerged victorious_.

He definitely has a point. Bad enough what had happened to her, but if she basically gives up everything she’s worked for, _dreamed_ of, because of it…

_ I’ll try going to the lab tomorrow, _ she promises herself. _Baby steps, though._ First she’ll visit the local library, she decides, and then she’ll attempt to start organizing things at the lab. She’ll go one stack of notes at a time, if she has to.

_ She_’s going to win. Not Thanos. 

***

As has become her habit, Jane’s first activity of the day is breakfast with Loki. At least he hadn’t turned his nose up at her pancakes! Something else he and Thor apparently have in common, though Jane decides it’s prudent not to say so; things might be less volatile lately between him and Thor, but that doesn’t mean Jane can assume that Loki and his adoptive brother are best of friends again. 

After giving him a kiss goodbye – during which he tries to slip her the tongue, typical – her second activity of the day is to make a stop at Puente Antiguo’s relatively tiny library. She rarely comes here, as it has no astrophysics books of any kind, beyond a single book covering basics she learned long ago in high school. In fact, wasn’t her last visit here during the time Loki was still stalking her, back before their 'arrangement' began? That feels like it happened centuries ago.

She files that thought away for a few minutes. She planned to borrow a beginner cookbook, so that ought to take priority. Basic recipes should be a good place to start, especially if Loki is really serious about wanting to learn. He probably doesn’t even know how to boil water! Or not without the use of magic, anyway.

Once a couple cookbooks are wedged under her arm, Jane wanders over to the library’s single computer to see if the there are any other books regarding Norse mythology in here.

It had been really interesting, listening to Loki’s take on the Norse myths (or rather, the human interpretation of them), and his accounts of what had _really_ happened. It makes her eager to learn more supposed myths that she can talk about with him. It’ll give them something else to discuss, besides all the painful things that have happened in their combined pasts.

After some searching Jan discovers the entry not only for the book she still has at the apartment, but two others. One of which, to her surprise, is a copy of the Prose Edda. Vaguely she remembers the librarian telling her months ago that he’s a history buff, and that he’s always been interested in myths and legends, so maybe that’s why this is here. 

The books are soon checked out and stuffed into her backpack, and Jane strolls out onto the sidewalk, shading her eyes with her hand from the hot sun. 

_ What next? Hmm, I could probably use a couple groceries… _

_ Then The Other and Thanos have already emerged victorious,  _ Loki’s voice interrupts in her head, as if he knows she’s stalling.

Jane sighs wearily and straightens her shoulders. _Baby steps._ She’s pretty sure Doc Allen would agree. _Let’s just start by going to the lab. You don’t even have to go_ in _, after all. Not if you don’t want to, right?_

Sunlight reflecting off the lab windows dazzles her for a second, and she must blink a few times before she can see whether or not it’s a total disaster zone in there.

It’s not actually _that_ bad. Sure, nothing is set up the way she likes, but everything is in neat piles on tables or chairs. Or the floor. _Actually_ _, it’s probably_ _neater than it usually is!_ Jane thinks with a wry twist of her mouth. She has a tendency to get very single-minded when she’s onto something, as Darcy knows all too well. And Loki.

It takes a while to find her keys in the bottom of her backpack, and she finally unlocks the door and steps hesitantly in. She walks slowly around, noticing with a grimace that there’s a couple mugs half-filled with cold coffee scattered around the kitchenette counter. Someone’s been here recently, though not today _. Darcy or Erik most likely_. Then the sharp pang comes again, reminding her that Erik has distanced himself from Stark-Foster. _Probably not him, then_.

She’ll have to go and try to talk to him again.

Sighing once more, she sets her backpack down and opens the cupboard, reaching for the coffee grounds. If it’s time to start putting the lab back into a state that works for her, Jane figures she’ll need the caffeine.

***

Morning. Breakfast with Loki again, and afterwards Jane is off to dance-aerobics. Once she tells Darcy about returning to the lab, of course her assistant wants to join in. “Gotta earn my astronomically-large paycheck somehow!” as Darcy puts it, with just slightly less than her usual dose of sarcasm.

Which is fine. As much as Jane had preferred the solitude yesterday, the silence had turned grating after a time. It gave her underutilized brain far too much time to remember where her pathway to the stars had ended up _last_ time-

“Hey, you’ve been busy!” Darcy enthuses as they walk into the lab. 

“Trying,” Jane answers, scanning the room as she debates whether she should ask Darcy to pick up where she left off with their last batch of data-coding, or if it’s more important to get Darcy to double-check if all the Bifröst-related notes have been found and organized yet by date. 

“Glad to see you back in the saddle,” Darcy continues, aiming a gentle punch at Jane’s nearest shoulder, before she wanders over to the coffeepot. Jane knows Darcy is wondering whether the remaining carafe contents are worth tossing in the microwave, or just tossing, period. “For a little while there,” Darcy adds, “I was thinking I might have to find a new job.”

Jane stares at Darcy, guilt wheeling in her stomach. “I’m so sorry, Darcy, I-”

Her assistant shakes her head. “Don’t sweat it. If you needed time, you needed time. Important thing is, you’re back. Can I ask what changed your mind though?”

Jane half-smiles. “Loki. He’s of the opinion that if I let what happened shut down my Einstein-Rosen bridge work, it’s like they _win_.”

Darcy nods thoughtfully. “Can’t say I disagree-”

A loud knock at the door startles them both. Jane glances over her shoulder, expecting to see Erik or maybe Loki (he’s starting to make a regular habit of knocking before entering, for which Darcy in particular seems profoundly grateful).

It’s Tony Stark, in his famous red and gold flying suit.

Jane’s mouth comes unhinged. “What the _hell_ -?”

“Whoa,” Darcy declares, blinking. “Guess I’d better start a _large_ batch of coffee.”

“Actually, uh, could you give us a minute, Darcy?” Jane asks her, holding up a finger in a ‘One second, please’ motion towards Tony, who’s waving at her through the glass. 

“No problem,” Darcy agrees. “’Scuse me,” she says to Tony as she opens the door and somehow manages to squeeze past him. “Catch you two later!” Darcy shoots back over her shoulder as she plugs her iPod buds into her ears, strolling away as nonchalantly as if superheroes show up on their front doorstep all the time.

Jane envies her just a little in that moment.

Tony steps into the lab, gingerly maneuvering through the doorway. The faceplate of his helmet opens to reveal his beaming face. “I heard you were back in the lab, Jane! So, does this mean you’re ready to restart making history?”

An irritated Jane rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “What a coincidence. Exactly one day after I set foot in here again, and you just happen to show up? Are you spying on me or something, Tony?”

“Well technically, Jarvis was spying on you, actually. Although ‘spying’ is a strong word. ‘Monitoring your welfare’ might be a better way to-”

“Great,” Jane growls, “It’s not bad enough that I had Loki stalking me up until recently, but now you too?”

Tony raises his brows, although he still sounds so cheerful that Jane just wants to swat him, superhero armour and all. “He was? Sounds annoying. He must be _really_ good in the sack, then, to make up for all the crap he puts you through.” 

“Yes,” Jane says flatly, and the flash of amused surprise on Tony’s face from her uncharacteristic bluntness doesn’t escape her. “And don’t you dare change the subject, Tony Stark. _How_ is Jarvis spying on me exactly?” She hasn’t brought any tech from Stark Tower over here, so unless SHIELD put some kind of bug in her equipment when they brought it back (and she wouldn’t put it past them, especially with Loki back in the picture!)-

Tony coughs and finally looks somewhat uncomfortable. “Lately I’ve been doing the occasional fly-over when I’m in the area. And since Jarvis is technically running my suit, it’s him that spotted you two…” He holds his metal-encased hands up in surrender. “Would you be less mad if I blamed it on Pepper? She’s been worried about you. Me, too.”

Jane sighs and rubs her temples, relenting. “No, it’s OK. I guess if I was on the outside looking in, I’d be worried about me, too.” She hesitates. “Especially when I kinda cut you off completely.”

Tony shrugs it off with a smile though it doesn’t touch his eyes. “We all handle PTSD differently. I had panic attacks for a while after the Manhattan thing, until Pepper insisted I see Doc Allen. Well, actually, I guess that was the _second_ time. The first time was when I was kidnapped and held by terrorists in Afghanistan, but I guess I kinda dealt with it by creating this suit. Polar opposite coping strategy from yours, not that I’m saying your way is wrong. ”

This is all news to Jane. “You, too? The mighty Iron Man-”

“Yeah, yeah, the superhero has feet of clay. I guess something about thinking I’d die out there in the desert while helping the bad guys, or that I’d die all alone in the middle of outer space, didn’t go over well with what passes for my brain,” he admits, shrugging carelessly, though again his eyes seem to say something otherwise.

“Anyway, my point is if you needed some alone time to figure things out, who am I to judge?” 

She smiles. “Thanks Tony, I appreciate that.”

“And to return to my original question, should I take this as a sign that our Stark-Foster baby is back on track?”

Jane’s smile falters a bit. “I…don’t know. I’m just taking it one step at a time. I think I’d like to try to work on it again, though.” She hesitates again. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can always ask,” Tony says agreeably, and something about his tone and phrasing gives Jane the sudden insight that he and Loki are similar in some ways. 

“How did you get over your…PTSD? Because I think being afraid of dying in the middle of alien space is something we both have – or had, I guess – in common.”

Tony pauses, shifting from foot-to-foot, and just when Jane thinks he won’t answer at all, he says thoughtfully: “Allen said I had to forgive myself for being human.”

She turns that over in her mind. “Sounds like good advice.”

“I hope so,” Tony counters, smirking. “That’s why SHIELD has him on the payroll!”

Jane chuckles, and later when she looks back she’ll remember this as the moment when her wormhole project came fully back to life.

***

Loki strolls idly through Jane’s city, the midday sun of Midgard beating mercilessly down on his head. He’s dressed himself as a Midgardian, even though none of the mortals can currently see him. But old habits are hard to let go of: blend in, make himself useful (if not indispensable), and try to act like one of many, rather than the outcast he always felt he was (and is).

That feeling of restlessness, of being adrift, has returned lately with a vengeance. For the first time in his long life, there is no one for Loki to follow. No edicts from the All-Father to obey, no brother to trail after to make sure he doesn’t act too rashly, and also to ensure that said brother returns home (mostly) whole.

He has no clearly defined role to fill, beyond being Jane’s companion. He may have been raised as a prince ( _both of you were born to be kings_ , Odin’s voice echoes in the back of his mind), but there is no throne Loki wishes to lay claim to, not in any of the Nine Realms. There are no wars that demand his skills at the moment, or rather, no wars he _wants_ to fight, if he can help it.

His considerable defenses are laid as best as he can manage against his enemies, and all he can do now is wait. But it is a true test of his patience, to merely linger here on Midgard, waiting to see if Thanos will attempt to raze this Realm, or at minimum come after the one who betrayed him. 

Loki knows he needs a distraction, and as much as he is enjoying his re-connection with Jane, there are too many empty spaces in his days here, too much time to _think_. His mortal lover does not require his constant care, and he doubts either of them would appreciate him being glued to her side every moment of every day.

He cannot even aid her with her life’s work. Even if SHIELD would allow it, Midgardian science is meaningless to him. The numbers and equations Jane takes such comfort in are incomprehensible to a being like him. He can merely close his eyes and _feel_ the energies around him, stretch out his hand and harness them as easily as breathing. That Midgardians cannot do the same, and must instead use their science to describe, to quantify…

Jane does not understand magic, just as Loki does not understand science. Even if Asgard blends the two, that does not make it easy for him to separate them anew, nor to explain to Jane how one merges into the other.

Spying is one of the few distractions he can still employ, though he refuses to engage in it all the time. Only when he thinks it might be of potential use, such as tracking Stark when the latter had been flying over Jane’s city, and also when that same Midgardian had seen fit to go to the laboratory and speak with Jane. 

_ Especially _ when Stark had spoken with Jane.

However grudgingly, Loki knows he must recognize that Stark is making it possible for Jane to realize her dreams. Oftentimes that is the only thing which keeps Loki from materializing and sparring verbally with Stark, especially after the mortal insults Loki in front of Jane.

That was two Midgardian sevendays ago, and much has changed, even as much has remained the same.  

First, Loki had listened with boredom while Jane and Stark had discussed and decided that Darcy should move into a suite of rooms at Stark’s eponymous Tower (the latter being little more than a testament to Stark’s overarching ambition, in Loki’s considered opinion) for the duration of their research.

Later that same day Loki had skillfully feigned surprise (with only an infinitesimal stab of guilt) when Jane had shyly asked for his help in moving Darcy into the temporary abode. 

Of course, Loki knows he has something of a reputation to uphold, so he had acted as if he considered such a task far beneath his station. Secretly however, he is grateful to be of use, however insignificant such help is in the grand scheme of things. 

He is a prince no more, and besides has few friends to his name. Well, fewer than before, though the friends he has here – namely Jane and Lady Darcy – do not seem to look down on him the way his Asgardian ‘comrades’ had. If anything, they laud the utility of his magical skills, which is something of a new experience for him! 

Here, his magic is treated as mysterious, useful, and fascinating, unlike in Asgard, where it had long been treated as a poor cousin to skill with sword and shield. Loki will never admit it to anyone, except perhaps Jane at some point, but it is a balm to his spirit, for someone to see his powers as laudable. It is also the _other_ reason why he had not insisted that moving Lady Darcy into her new quarters would be considered the fulfillment of her ‘boon’; she deserves something _more_ than that for the aid she accorded him when Jane had been taken.

Loki’s powers have also proved useful to Jane as well. As he and Jane had agreed before The Other had taken her, Jane spends her days working at Stark Tower, and her nights in her desert-city, with Loki magicking her there and back as needed. He can see it is taking a toll on her – something she names ‘jet-lag’, whatever that means – but she is too excited to take more rest, at least until each sevenday’s end.

After some ambivalent out-loud self-discussion on Jane’s part, which Loki had watched with thinly-veiled amusement, she had decided that it would be better if Loki stayed off the grounds of the Tower itself. Instead, they meet up at a pathetically small recreational site nearby Jane tells him is named ‘Bryant Park’, not that such minutia is of any real interest to him. 

The important matter is that Jane is most comfortable with this arrangement, and if it keeps Loki from having to endure one second of Stark’s infuriating slights, then he is loathe to complain.

Though he _does_ watch.

It is not always enjoyable; for example, when Jane had self-consciously explained to Stark that no, she would not be living in his ‘towering phallus of self-aggrandizement’ (not her words, that is only how Loki has come to think of it over time), and that she would make her own transportation arrangements. Stark had, with rare wisdom, raised an eyebrow but otherwise said nothing, but looking upon Jane’s reddened face made Loki want to throw Stark out a window again regardless.

But when Stark is off on his own inconsequential affairs and Jane and Darcy are free to engage in her life’s work…that is another matter entirely. 

It delights Loki to watch his Midgardian’s keen mind at work. At first he had been alarmed, then lovingly amused by Jane’s frenetic excitement as she’d flitted from idea to idea, and later from device to device, Darcy following tolerantly in her wake with an indulgent smile on her face as if she is well-used to Jane acting in such a manner. Sometimes it is all Loki can do to suppress a chuckle at how scattered yet focused Jane can be in a single moment.

It does grate on him, though, that the annoying Midgardian Stark is able to freely observe Jane’s moment-of-glory-in-the-making whenever he pleases, while Loki must hide in shadows. If pressed, Loki supposes he must admit he is jealous of Stark, that the mortal male can watch and relish Jane’s progress in a way which Loki can only do in secret.

And his Jane is making rapid progress, indeed. From what little Loki understands, Jane had already completed all the myriad precise calculations, and drawn up plans for the devices she had not the resources to build at the time. Other than lacking a sufficient power source, she had been ready to test her theories for quite some time.

The construction of the huge so-called ‘arc reactor’ is proceeding well, though Loki can tell it is not occurring fast enough for Jane. As the days pass her irritation grows, fueled additionally by the fact that SHIELD apparently has begun to insist that once the reactor is constructed and shown to be viable, it and all the other portal-generating equipment must be moved to a more remote location for attempting the initial opening of Jane’s Bridge.

Loki can almost _taste_ Jane’s ire at this additional limit that Director Nick Fury is setting on them, though Loki can well see the wisdom in ensuring that previously untested ‘technology’ like this is far away from large concentrations of humans for now.

In his more idle moments, Loki wonders if perhaps Jane’s ambitions have become so dear to him simply because he has none of his own. No kingdom to run, no wars to fight…

_ Adrift. _

Sometimes, he wishes the Midgardians still worshipped the Asgardians as gods. Not that he wishes to subjugate them – he never truly did – but merely because running this Realm would give him something to _do_.

From time-to-time he ponders the notion of returning to Asgard for a brief visit or two, in an attempt to further matters with Frigga and Thor (though not Odin, _never_ Odin). But after some rumination he decides he still feels too conflicted when it comes to his former family. 

At last it occurs to him one day while secretly watching Jane at work, that perhaps he should familiarize himself better with the progress these mortals have made in art, architecture, ‘technology’, and so on. Barring his recent antics with Thor, as well as those at Thanos’ behest, he has not visited this Realm in many centuries. Oh, he has examined both the natural resources and the weapons capability of this Realm many times in recent months, with the aim of finding ways to better defend himself and Jane, and possibly Midgard should it come to that. 

But to see what the human race is capable of outside of those weighty matters? He has not bothered, up until now considering such beneath him and his time.

Well, now all he has is time, and perhaps the better he can understand these Midgardians, their ‘modern’ ways and how they now find themselves in such a state, perhaps the better he will understand his Jane.

If nothing else it will help pass the time.

***

“There!” Jane says, sounding content as she folds her cell phone and puts it down on the kitchen table next to her elbow. “It’s done.”

Loki smiles over at her as he flips idly through one of the textbooks on astrophysics that Jane dug out of her personal book collection for him. It is part of his current project to attempt to understand better the mind-set of Midgardians. In this case, their ‘science’.

“You have sold your ale-barrel, then?” he banters gently. 

“Yes, and I managed to break even on it! Not bad, considering it had a few…‘quirks’.” Jane answers. She absently pushes her hair back behind her shoulder as she eyes the small stack of books at her left elbow, which Loki recognizes as being those she told him earlier were ‘cookbooks’.

“Are you hungry?” she asks him, stifling a yawn behind one slender hand. Loki brought her here from Stark Tower less than an hour ago, and he knows she likely spent the entire day darting from problem to problem in her usual frenzied way. She expends so much energy that sometimes Loki wonders how her small frame can exert itself so much, and still have the ability to think and speak coherently by the end of the day.

“No,” he answers truthfully, “but _you_ are, and I can always eat.” He winks and rises from his seat at the table, circling to stand next to Jane as she begins to page through one of her cooking books. “OK, are you in the mood for pasta, or a chicken stir-fry?” she asks as the pages turn over with soft whicking sounds.

“Our last attempt at ‘pasta’ was a little less than successful,” Loki points out, though he knows it was entirely his fault; impatient with the time it was taking the water to heat, he had attempted to use magic to speed the process, and somehow that had ended in hot water splattered all over Jane’s kitchen walls and floor. And ceiling. “So perhaps chicken would be a safer opt- What is this?” he asks, his curiosity piqued as he notices the tome sitting open underneath the cooking book.

He pulls it out the better to see. “The _Blót_ ; Sacrifices to the Norse and other Pagan Gods,” he reads the title out loud, though he notes with some confusion and amusement that Jane’s cheeks have blushed an attractive shade of rose.

Loki glances at the other tomes on the table, noting that while most of them are cooking or science-related books, there is also a copy of that ludicrous tome the mortals call the Prose Edda. He laughs. “If you are considering trying to curry my favour, I can think of several ways that you may do so, none of which involve misleading yourself with these false accounts,” he suggests, leaning down to slide his arms around her as he kisses the tender spot behind her left ear.

Jane giggles. “You don’t say,” she replies, and though the expression confounds him – did he not? - her tone is joking. 

“I do,” he confirms, altering his voice deliberately to the low, gravelly tone which he knows arouses her. Indeed, he can feel her answering shiver under the press of his lips.

“Yeah, I, uh, well,” Jane stammers, going even redder as Loki tries not to take too much obvious pleasure in her adorable discomfort, “I was thinking about what you said a while ago. Back before The Other grabbed me.” She stops and bites her lip, but then continues on with steely determination, “About your partners role-playing being sacrificed to you.” Her fingers toy nervously with the edge of the page.

Loki laughs, delighted, and he makes sure to put a sinister edge on it. He knows well how to push his mortal lover’s buttons, as evidenced by how she squirms slightly in her chair.

But there are recent events to consider, and so he admonishes himself before reminding them both: “If you feel ready to play with me again in that fashion, my dearest Jane, of course I would be happy to indulge you. But I do not wish you to feel that it is _necessary_. You have been through some difficult events recently.” He strokes the back of her neck as he speaks, enjoying the warmth of her skin, the softness of her hair.

“No,” she counters, her voice stronger. “It’s OK, really. Believe me, I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought I wasn’t ready,” she explains, turning to meet his gaze with earnest brown eyes.

He nods slowly, already plotting. “Very well. I merely wished to be certain; I have never forced any virgins to comply, and I am not about to start now. Virgin or not,” he adds with a smirk, predicting her dissenting response about the state of her maidenhead.

“Did you wish to engage in this play-acting this evening?” he asks, though he suspects he knows the answer already. 

Jane sighs and rubs a hand over her forehead. “Can we wait until Friday night? I’m pretty tired, and I have a big day tomorrow. Tony’s going to turn the arc-reactor on for the first time.” She smiles. “It’s kind of a big deal. If it works…” She trails off, uncertainty creasing her features, and Loki has to bite his tongue hard to resist the urge to begin ranting about the _other_ mortals and their lack of trust in him, and how they are keeping him on the outskirts as Jane experiences her moment of triumph.

“It will, I am certain of it,” is all he says, smoothing his tone so his turmoil is not misunderstood by Jane. He has many doubts, but not about her work. He is absolutely convinced that if any obstacles even dare to raise themselves, his clever mortal will find a way to surmount them. “No matter, a delay will give me leisure to… _plan_.” He gives her a salacious wink, then reaches past her shoulder to flip through the cooking book pages once more. “So, a ‘chicken stir-fry’, you say? What precisely is that?” 

***

Stark’s giant heart-star functions perfectly. Loki, even had he not been watching from the shadows, could well have guessed as much from Jane’s enthusiastic reaction afterwards. 

However the next two days pass with Jane in a flurry of preparation, in order to facilitate the move to the SHIELD-approved test site. The third day, Friday, does not start well, at least not in Loki’s opinion. 

Although he can well understand Jane’s desire to include her old friend, Loki fails to comprehend why Jane keeps punishing herself by visiting Selvig, and asking him yet again to be involved in her project.

Loki does his best to stay away, to not observe the proceedings, but in the end he can’t help himself. _Perhaps Jane is not the only one of us punishing ourselves_ , he thinks with a tinge of regret as he witnesses their exchange from his usual cloak of invisibility.

“Of course he saved you, Jane. He wants your technology! And you’re putting it willingly into his hands!” Selvig is protesting, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Loki does _not_ need me to move between worlds, Erik,” Jane reminds the other Midgardian, and Loki can tell she’s doing her best to stay calm.

“Maybe not himself and a couple _friends_ ,” Selvig says the last word with heavy sarcasm, as if he believes Loki is incapable of having friends, and Loki bristles at this snub, “but maybe there’s limits. Maybe creating a portal large enough and stable enough to bring an entire army through, yeah, he’d need something like what you’re building? He did it before, or have you forgotten? I was there, you know!”

“He explained all that-”

“I don’t believe him,” Selvig says flatly. “And you, you shouldn’t either, Jane! Do I need to remind you what he’s the ‘god’ of?”

Jane shakes her head, weariness etched suddenly into her pale features. “We’re going in circles, Erik. Look, I know you don’t trust him, and you have every reason not to. But don’t you trust _me_?”

Selvig shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I want to, Jane. More than anything, because I know how important this is to you,” he says, his voice softer as he steps forward to lay hands on Jane’s shoulders. 

Then his tone hardens again as he turns away. “But I can’t. You might _think_ you are behaving in your own best interests, but I can’t be so sure, not where _he_ is involved. He could be controlling you, ever so subtly.” Selvig lowers himself into a chair, his hand rasping over his unshaven face. “Besides,” the mortal adds, “I am no fan of SHIELD these days, either. It’s double-jeopardy.”

Jane’s shoulders sag, and Selvig sighs heavily. “But…I know how much your father would have loved it, if we were working together on this…so, to respect his memory, if you need someone to talk to about the project, someone to be your sounding-board, I can help with that. But that’s as far as it goes.”

Jane nods slowly, and Loki can practically _feel_ her thinking that it’s a start.

She walks over to hug the other human. “Thank you, Erik. Thank you for finding a compromise with me.”

Selvig hugs her back, but his eyes are bitter. “If everything goes south, I’m afraid it’s going to be all on you, Jane. You and SHIELD.”

“It _won’t_.” Jane insists firmly. “I trust Loki, even if you don’t. I trust Thor, who’s letting Loki be here on Earth with me, and I trust Tony, who I’m sure values his ego far too much to invest in something that has an enormous chance of failing – or of bringing hostile aliens down on us!”

“I don’t really trust Fury either, but he’s the one holding the financial reins so there isn’t much I can do about that.” Jane takes a deep breath before continuing. “I promise you Erik, at the first sign of something going wrong, I’m shutting the whole thing down, OK?”

Erik shrugs, grimacing. “By then it may be too late, Jane.”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” she answers, her tone resigned, and Loki glares invisible daggers at the older Midgardian. Such foolishness.

She takes her leave, and Loki magicks himself back into her abode, placing himself on her ‘couch’ as usual, as he knows she plans to return home. This being one of her ‘work-days’, normally she would be asking him to magick her out to Stark’s Tower, but Loki knows she is waiting to hear from Stark on this particular day before going anywhere.

From what Loki understands, Jane and her team have completed the bulk of their packing and preparations at the Stark Tower facility, and now they are waiting to hear which site SHIELD has selected for Jane’s Bifröst tests.

Though of course Loki is not supposed to be privy to any of these details.

Jane lets herself in, smiling at Loki, and for his part he pretends to be surprised when he asks if she is ready for him to magick her to New York, and she turns him down. “Is everything well?” he asks, allowing an expression of mild concern to cross his features.

“Fine,” she assures him, though he can tell she is debating how much she can safely reveal under the terms she agreed to with Stark and Fury.

“We’re close,” she says at last, with more than a little hesitance. “ _So_ close now! But those damned pencil-pushers at SHIELD want us to do my portal tests somewhere _other_ than New York. Somewhere remote. Which makes sense I guess; if this thing explodes or something, nobody but us will be at risk, but still, it’s the _waiting_ -”

Loki frowns, and he does not need to exert much effort to falsify _that_ expression. Of course he plans to be there for the portal opening, in case Jane needs his aid, but _she_ can’t know that. Again, being forced to watch from the periphery galls him.

Perhaps this way he can at least not have to lie to her about being present- “Jane, perchance you should have me there, in case something unexpected and dangerous occurs? I realize the other Midgardians will not appreciate me lingering nearby, but I can cloak myself from their sight if need be.”

Jane bites her lip, clearly conflicted, though after a moment she shakes her head. “No, it’s OK. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Fury’s just taking as few risks as he can. I think it’s probably a requirement of anybody in his position-”

She is cut short by a loud knock at the door, and when Jane opens it, they are both surprised to see it is Stark, dressed once again in that ridiculously ostentatious armour, his helmet opened to display his smug countenance.

“Jane,” Stark greets her in a friendly manner, before turning to eye Loki. “Ah, and Reindeer Games! I was wondering if I’d ever have the displeasure of your company again!” Stark brushes by Jane and strolls into the abode airily, as Loki glares. _This, one of the vaunted protectors of Midgard? Hah!_

“If you are going to attempt to insult me, perhaps it would be more effective if I knew what in Yggdrasil you were referring to. ‘Reindeer’?” Loki asks, voice deceptively mild. He rises to his feet in a single graceful motion, ignoring Jane’s warning look.

“Never mind,” Stark says dismissively. He waves towards the door. “Time for you to take off, leatherman.”

Loki sets his feet and raises a sardonic brow. “You are commanding me? Perhaps you would like me to _acquaint_ you with these windows?” he comments with studied aloofness. _The insignificant little-_

Then Jane is standing next to Loki, drawing hard on his arm. “Loki,” she pleads. For a brief moment, Loki considers disregarding her obvious wishes…but Stark is useful to Jane, so Loki decides he’ll forgo disciplining the man. _Though a prank or two in the future would certainly be warranted,_ Loki promises himself maliciously.

“Of course, my love,” Loki answers, turning to her and making sure to kiss her very thoroughly. “I will leave you in the company of your esteemed _colleague_. Much wisdom may you glean from him,” he adds with barely-veiled sarcasm.

He steps back from Jane and calls a mantle of green and white light down around himself, dazzling the two mortals. When their eyes clear, they will believe he has magicked himself away, though naturally he remains, cloaked from their sight in a corner of the room.

Loki has had quite enough of Jane being at risk. If he must spy on her to protect her from her own experiment, so be it. With any luck (not that he has had much luck to call his own lately) she will remain unaware of his espionage.

“Sure does like to make an exit, doesn’t he? Still the diva,” Stark marvels, shaking his head. 

Jane sighs and rubs at her forehead as if she is getting a headache. “Can we not do this, Tony? Please?”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Tony replies, sighing himself though the corner of his mouth quirks, and Loki’s hand fists by his side against the urge to strike the audacious mortal. “Lemme give you some advice: You need to take things a bit less seriously sometimes, Jane. Have a little fun!”

Jane rolls her eyes in exasperation and crosses her arms across her chest. “I’ll be able to have ‘fun’ once SHIELD stops throwing obstacles in the way of my goddamned research!” she all but snarls, and Loki smirks. _Such a spirited consort I have won._

Stark makes a mollifying gesture at last, and Loki’s shoulders relax, slightly.

“I come bearing tidings regarding your portal,” Stark says, plainly attempting to mock Loki’s way of speaking, and Loki grits his teeth, resisting a powerful urge to play a trick on the imbecilic mortal right this very moment. 

Then Stark sniffs the air theatrically. “Ooooh, hazelnut coffee? May I?” Without waiting for an answer he saunters into the kitchen, his armour emitting a faint whirring noise as he moves. Jane shakes her head once more as she follows after Stark, though a smile edges her lips. Apparently Stark’s antics begin to amuse her. Loki silently pads after both of them.

“Anyway, as I was saying, it’s Area 51. That’s where SHIELD wants us to go test your baby.” Stark explains to Jane, taking a deep draught of the coffee, holding the stein carefully in his metal fingers.

The look on Jane’s face interests Loki. Surprise, curiosity, even a touch of nervousness perhaps. “ _Area 51_? It figures.” she answers Stark.

The mortal man smirks. “Appropriately clandestine, right? For SHIELD, I mean. I’m much more of a ‘let’s do it where everyone can see’, kinda guy.” Stark smirks and gulps more coffee noisily.

Jane rolls her eyes yet again and reaches for a stein for herself. “Yeah. Exactly. I mean, I hate feeling like I – we, I mean – are building an A-bomb and so we need to test it in the middle of nowhere.”

Stark gestures with his mug. “I think it’s more about my end; that Fury’s afraid I’ve miscalculated, and once everything is reassembled, the arc-reactor’ll vaporize everything in a 20-mile radius the first time I hit the ‘On’ switch.” Stark is grinning, though Loki stiffens. This is no time for such levity!

Jane appears a little uncertain herself now, and Stark’s eyebrows go up as he examines her face. “What, you don’t trust me now either, Doc? You know how many of those reactors I’ve designed and built? Hell, I’m _wearing_ one right now!” He taps his coffee stein against the faintly glowing circle of the heart-star on his armour for emphasis, a soft metallic ringing audible even from where Loki stands. 

Loki remembers attempting to use the scepter on it, and how Thanos’ mind-usurping magics had failed then, for the very first time. Belatedly, Loki wonders if this is a phenomenon he should be researching more himself. A possible hole in Thanos’ powers, courtesy of this utterly aggravating mortal... _To be investigated at a later date,_ he decides. Once matters with Jane and her Bifröst are a little less pressing.

“No, it’s not that. I’ve just…had a rough time lately. Jumping at shadows, I guess,” she says, rubbing at the bridge of her nose, and Loki guesses at what Jane is choosing not to vocalize: likely Selvig’s prediction that if she dares to open her portal, Thanos’ army will be waiting on the other side. “OK, so what’s the plan?” Jane is saying to Stark.

“Well, I’m going to supervise loading the reactor components onto the Stark jet today, and once that’s done you can take over and load up your portal devices. Depending on when it’s all done, we’ll fly everything over to Nevada either later tonight or early tomorrow, whenever Fury gives the go-ahead. Maybe we’ll send a second plane if we can’t fit everything. Once it’s all on-site, you and I and a bunch of handpicked SHIELD scientists and jackbooted thugs will join us in making scientific history.” He stops, taking another slurp of Loki’s favourite Midgardian beverage to date. 

“No Darcy?” Jane asks, her brows pulling together.

“Nope, not for the initial testing. Fury apparently is putting his foot down on that. ‘No civilians other than Doctor Foster under _any_ circumstances, Mr. Stark’ were his exact words. So, no Darcy for you and no Pepper for me. If we plan to listen, that is. I’m always up for a little civil disobedience.” Stark winks at Jane, and Loki rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Does the metal man ever take _anything_ seriously? Loki truly stands in awe of how nobody has been driven to murder this annoying twit of a mortal by now, out of sheer vexation.

Jane nods, but worry still lines her forehead. “No, that makes sense to me. I just wonder-”

She halts mid-sentence but Stark, sharp-eyed, finishes it for her. “Thinking about using the Mr. Mischief Magic Carpet Express to get there and back?”

Her cheeks burn red, and Loki flexes his hands, wishing strongly that Stark’s throat was between them. Oh yes, this upstart Midgardian is very lucky that Jane _needs_ him, or otherwise-

“Look, I’ve had to deal with a _lot_ of crap lately,” Jane retorts, voice sharp in a way that Loki entirely approves of, “and yes, I’d rather sleep in my own bed every night. Loki’s magic helps with that. But he’s only teleporting me back and forth, that’s it. He won’t be on the premises while we test my portal.”

“That you know of,” Stark points out, gesturing with his mug, and Loki smirks. Annoying, but intelligent, is the metal man. More’s the pity.

“I trust Loki,” Jane insists, and Loki’s smirk falters. Spying like this is a violation of that trust, Loki knows full well, but the ends – ensuring her safety – justifies the means. He’s sure even his moralistic not-brother would agree with him in this instance. “If I tell him to drop me off and go, he will.”

It is evident Stark doesn’t share Jane’s faith, but it scarcely matters. Loki will do what he wants regardless, and even if Stark fears Loki’s involvement, it is quite obvious to Loki that Stark’s own avarice will cause him to see Jane’s project through no matter the cost. 

The man’s quest for knowledge will drive him to do anything, though Loki knows full well that, at least within certain limits, the same could be said of Jane, and of Loki himself.

“Maybe,” Stark answers, affecting a casual air. “But I’ll bring my suit just in case, if you don’t mind,” he adds, and Loki sneers in Stark’s direction. While the cannons on the armoured suit do pack a punch, Stark is still overall no match for Loki.

“If you want to,” Jane looks unhappy but she squares her shoulders and puts her half-full coffee stein down on the table. “So,” she continues, adopting a businesslike tone, “did you want me to head over to the Tower now and get the last of the Bridge devices ready to ship?”

“Sure,” Stark agrees, and Loki stops listening at that point as they discuss the more mundane details, the pair slowly walking back over to the front door. Soon Jane will summon him to magick her off to the Tower, and then Loki will be left to his own devices. 

First he will find this ‘Area 51’, and then plan what precautions and actions he will take if and when Jane’s experiment does not go well.

Then he will give some consideration to the new bed-game she proposed the other day. A wicked thought occurred to him earlier, as they lingered over the morning meal, and he must mull over the most delicate way to approach it with her. 

***

Her summons that afternoon comes to Loki later than usual, and she looks more fatigued than usual as well as he arrives in the park to retrieve her.

He sweeps her slight form into his arms. “A long day, my dear?” he asks quietly.

“The packing was more complicated than I expected. And then getting everything onto the plane! I was never any good at Tetris,” she complains, rubbing at her temples before winding her arms around him. “But we’re finally done. I don’t think we could even squeeze a single sheet of notepaper onto that plane now, not if Tony expects to have any room to actually _breathe_. That damned plane better not crash.” She laughs, though it is mostly nerves, not hilarity.

“I am surprised you are not with them for the journey,” he observes, even though obviously he would prefer otherwise.

“I am on strict orders to go home and ‘rest’,” she answers, though she smirks as she raises her eyes to meet his. “Save my strength for all the reassembly and testing we’ll have to do, before we can actually activate the portal.”

Loki experiences a moment of disappointment. He knows their little games can wait, though spending the late afternoon plotting erotic scenarios has left him aching to join their bodies. “I see. Well, if rest is what you require, I am willing to postpone our little ‘ceremony’.”

“No, I think if we don’t, I won’t be sleeping much. Too many worries and calculations in my head.” She chuckles. “We both know the cure for that, don’t we?”

Loki allows his smile to widen and turn predatory. “Oh yes,” he purrs. “That we do. But first, sustenance.”

He whisks them back to Jane’s abode in a soundless and unseen whorl of light.

Their repast is a quickly-assembled meal of ‘leftovers’ (as Jane terms it) from past nights. Some dishes have proven more successful than others, but it gives Loki some small measure of pride to know that he can cook more than trail rations. _Let none say that Loki of As-_ Lokisson _is slow to learn._

“Can I…ask you a favour, Loki?” Jane requests as they finish their meal. The hesitation in her tone sets the hairs on the back of his neck to prickling.

“If you wish to change your mind regarding tonight, of cours-”

“No, it’s not that. I was just…uh…I don’t know how to say this without sounding insulting.”

Loki raises a brow though does his best to seem magnanimous. “Then speak. If there is a problem, I cannot make amends if I do not know what it is. The appearance of recent events aside, I do not in fact possess the ability to read minds.”

Jane wavers a few moments more, then it all comes out in a rush. “Could you maybe try being a little less of a dick to people?” 

Loki is startled into laughing. “I suppose you are referring to my repartee with Stark earlier?”

“Exactly. But there’s also been Fury, other SHIELD people…Look, I know Stark can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s _helping_ me. I’m afraid that you trading insults with him just throws fuel on the fire.”

Loki grins. “On the contrary my dear, I believe he enjoys matching wits with me. Besides, do I not have a reputation to uphold?” he queries loftily.

Jane huffs. “You don’t always have to be _that_ Loki, you know. The-God-of-Mischief-Loki. You can dial it back a bit sometimes. Especially when the person who could take the fall for it is me.” 

Loki drums his fingers lightly on the edge of the table, pushing back his habitual irritation in order to consider her words more carefully. Now that they are involved in an actual ‘relationship’, he supposes his actions and manner will reflect on her to a certain extent. It is not something he has ever had to be concerned about before; his relationships prior this moment have all been too brief, or as Prince of Asgard it hadn’t mattered, but naturally everything is different now.

“I’m not trying to _change_ you,” Jane continues, no doubt predicting he will refuse her request. “I know you identify pretty strongly with the mischief-making aspect. I’m just asking you to maybe…I don’t know, pick your moments a little more?” She gestures with her hands, discomfort painted on her features.

He smiles warmly to reassure her, rising and moving nimbly around the table to enfold her in his arms. “I understand,” he says. “I will try. Although-” he temporizes, his brows pulling together, “I do not know if I can be consistently _polite_ with Stark. He is excessively skilled at trying one’s nerves.”

Jane utters a sharp bark of laughter. “I think you and Tony have a lot more in common than you realize. Which is probably why you’re so good at pushing each other’s buttons.”

Tempted to argue the point with her, Loki begins a reply, then decides he has more gratifying tasks to attend to. “Perhaps,” is all he answers, as he moves to gather the plates and steins into a neat stack for Jane. “Now if you will excuse me for a moment, I have some preparations to make for our little…game.”

His mortal’s cheeks pinken. “Um, OK. D’you want me to, uh, change into something more…appropriate?” she asks, gesturing to her casual attire. 

He modulates his voice down to a quiet, gravel-edged purr. “Not necessary, little one. I will see to such things. Merely complete your tasks here, and wait for me. I won’t be long.” With that, he teleports away. 

The desert far outside Jane’s city is as good a place as any to work, quiet and dark and free of distractions. Loki gestures, gathering the magic into himself. It is not a complicated spell, akin to the one he cast when he created his little semi-Asgardian forest setting to ‘hunt’ her through, but it does require several steps. First, he creates the little pocket in space where the two of them will reside while engaging in this play-acting.

Next come the illusions. A rough-hewn altar, of course, for his ‘victim’ to be restrained on, set atop an even rougher stone dais. He ensures that it is at the perfect height to mount her easily. Around the altar he builds an old place of worship, long ago fallen into ruin, the sky darkened and visible through holes in the high ceiling. Next he conjures several large fires, including one at each end of the dais, to further add to the sense of foreboding ambiance, light and shadow flickering across every surface.

The final touch is the congregation, a throng of them kneeling and muttering in low voices, his name occasionally intelligible among the syllables. Their faces and bodies are shrouded by hooded cloaks of the same green Loki favours. 

Loki pauses to examine the illusion, smiling in satisfaction. As much as he enjoys the more tangible, sensual aspects of this kind of play, he equally relishes the opportunity to display his magic skills.

Experimentally he runs a hand over the surface of the altar, testing it. It looks like roughened stone, but to the touch it feels like a firm mattress, much softer than it appears. The cuffs of the chains attached to the altar are the same; to the eye they look cruel enough, but to the feel they are soft and undamaging.

Loki remembers well the first partner he played this game with. Taking things far too literally, he had not taken such precautions, and his lover had suffered for it. She had not complained at the time, but her shoulder blades and lower back had been rubbed raw by the completion of their ‘ceremony’. Though she had assured him she did not mind, and as a light elf, healing herself of the abrasions had proved barely an effort, Loki had still felt utterly mortified for not foreseeing it.

It had been an unpleasant learning experience to be sure, but he is the better Master for it, and Jane will be the beneficiary. An eager smile crosses his face as he cloaks himself so that she will not see him, and he reaches out with his magic towards Jane’s city.

In a flash of un-light Jane materializes on her back on the altar, a gasp of surprise falling from her lips. Though still unseen, Loki smirks. No doubt she did not expect him to wrench her into the situation like this, but he is and will ever be the Trickster.

Grinning and still hidden from her sight, he circles slowly, taking her in, and her reaction. She’s pulling on her bonds, eyes disbelieving as she takes in the chains that attach her to the stone at wrist and ankle. Her eyes next swing towards their muttering audience, and Loki wonders too late if she will balk again at being on display, or if it was more the specter of Thor that put her off the last time. He supposes he will discover soon enough.

His lust gathers as he makes another circuit of the altar, admiring his lover’s form. It takes skill to magick someone right out of their clothes, but of course Loki has had hundreds of years of relevant practice. But leaving her naked on the altar would be rushing things unnecessarily, so he has clothed her in illusion; the dress she wears is of emerald lace, low-cut to expose the pale creamy skin of her cleavage, and the skirt slit right up the middle, the slice ending at mid-thigh. It clings to each curve and leaves nothing to the imagination. It is there only to be removed, slowly, and there’s nothing underneath to impede him. Her torc is the only thing she still wears that is not pure illusion, but since it already marks her as his, it certainly fits the scene.

Jane raises her head, nervously searching for him. Well, he sees no need to torment her. He glides soundlessly into the deepest shadows, conjuring his golden plate armour and horned helm before banishing his cloaking spell. Showmanship is an integral part of this scenario.

Another gasp greets his regal entrance, Jane’s eyes widening as she takes in the sight of him, and Loki wears his most predatory grin as he approaches the altar, tilting his head as he inspects every inch of his intended prey.

He circles, then stops at the end of the altar between her feet. Jane moistens her lips and speaks, her voice shaky: “Pl-please, don’t hurt me.”

Loki raises an aristocratic brow. “'Hurt you’? What have these barbarians told you will happen here between the two of us, pretty little mortal?”

She swallows convulsively, considering her words. “That…that I was going to be sacrificed to an evil god named Loki. A god of darkness and lies.” 

He allows himself to chuckle. “Not entirely untrue, though I suppose if I am God of Lies, you will not believe me should I tell you otherwise, hm?” He steps closer, sliding warm fingertips lightly over her bare foot, and Jane twitches.

“I am Loki, and yes, you are to be sacrificed to me.” He moves around the altar to her side, reaching now to trail a finger along the edge of his torc at her throat. “When you became a woman, they gave you this, no? A sign that you were to be dedicated to me. You were made to be mine, lovely one.”

“Please,” Jane repeats breathily, eyes wide as she looks up at his horns. “My Lord-”

“I am not ‘your Lord’, child. I am your _God_ ,” he remarks, his tone gently chiding though he has to halt a smirk as he notices Jane trying not to roll her eyes. As always, she balks at giving him his due, though he supposes it is current Midgardian thinking regarding the existence of gods which is mostly to blame. 

“But no, do not be afraid. It is not your life that you will be required to yield to me,” Loki assures her, adopting a faux serious tone. “No, I desire something else entirely of you.”

“My God,” Jane tries again, her voice shaky though Loki suspects it is from hidden laughter as much as from unease, “Please, please just let me go. Show me mercy-”

He throws his head back as he laughs wickedly, the shadows cast by his horns fragmenting among the ruined pillars around them. “Mercy? No, my dear. Your sacrifice is required to fuel my powers, and is a necessary part of the bargain your elders made with me,” he explains, extending a hand towards their kneeling audience.

Leaning over her, he cups her chin carefully in his hand as his voice drops to the soft coaxing tone he uses on skittish bed-mates. “You are innocent of the ways of men and women, this I know. Your elders have seen to it, that you have remained pure until this moment. All I require is your maidenhead, and I assure you that despite what you may have heard, I will make certain you feel as little discomfort as possible. I _can_ be a merciful God in that fashion.” 

He can tell Jane is trying not to laugh again as he speaks of her long-lost virginity, though her frightened expression lessens slightly. She is not as skilled at acting and lying as he (understandably so!), but she is doing well enough. 

She opens her mouth to speak again, but Loki interrupts in gentle tones. “You were raised for a sole purpose, which is to please me. Be assured, however, that I fully intend to pleasure _you_ …as no man or woman ever has, or ever will.” His fingers stroke down the line of her pale throat, and Jane swallows hard, trembling under his touch. 

He lifts a strand of her hair, turning it as if he is admiring its colour and texture. He cups her cheek in his hand, leaning over her once more. “You are truly beautiful, little one,” he breathes. “A fitting offering for any God.” He kisses her though it is chaste and soft for the moment, and allows his hand to rest against her bared cleavage, her heartbeat quick under his palm.

“I know not the stories these fools have told you, but under this armour I am not so different from a mortal man. See?” He pulls off his helm, and with a swirling motion of his hands it is sent back to his pocket dimension. To his amusement Jane appears properly awed, even though she has seen that trick of his many times before.

Another gesture and his plate mail dematerializes, leaving him in his usual armour. Many past bed-partners have enjoyed the feel of his leathers against their bare flesh, so he chooses not to clothe himself in a robe in case Jane should similarly delight in such an experience.

Loki leans to her ear, allowing locks of his hair to softly graze her cheek. His hand comes to delicately rest on the slight, soft rise of her belly. “Come now, do you truly find me so unattractive, little one?”

“N-no,” Jane stammers softly, shifting a little underneath his touch. He breathes her in, savouring the familiar scents of her skin, of the soap she uses to cleanse her hair. If he inhales deeply enough, he can scent her arousal too, and his own body responds in kind, his breeches feeling far too restrictive.

“I am pleased to hear you think so,” he answers, exhaling softly against her neck, then pressing a kiss to that tender skin. Jane shivers and tilts her chin back a little, and he wonders if this is part of the act – his helpless little victim falling under his seductive spell – or an entirely unconscious choice.

His tongue flicks like a snake’s against the side of her neck, before he moves to suckle on her earlobe, sampling the faint salt tang of her skin. His Jane moans quietly, the sound transforming into a sharp intake of breath when his hand drifts up, stopping to rest on the naked skin just above the nearly-indecent neckline of her dress.

“Yield to me,” he whispers encouragingly into the shell of her ear. “Surrender. You have no choice in any case, and resisting will only ruin what could be an erotic experience like nothing else you will ever know, my dear.” His hand finds its way just under the top of the dress, caressing the tender swell of her breast. “I intend only to bring you to a peak of pleasure so high that you will know nothing else exists at that moment, except your ecstasy and your God.”

She’s breathing more quickly now, nearly panting, her limbs twitching and tugging restlessly against her bindings. He takes her mouth again, this time more assertively, his tongue against her lips and seeking entry.

A token moment of resistance, then she opens fully to him. He takes his time, losing himself in the familiarity of her taste, the feel of her teeth and the slick velvet of her tongue. It occurs to him mid-kiss that he has never remained with the same lover for so long a time before. Interesting; he will need to ponder the implications of this fact later.

He threads a hand into her hair, squeezing a handful of silky strands between his fingers as he pulls back slightly to press his teeth carefully into her lower lip, though it’s more a love-bite than a true one. 

Jane’s warm breath heats his cheek in another gasp; his free hand has curled around the peak of her breast, thumb circling around and around the lace-adorned nipple. “Am I hurting you, little one?” he queries, lips still close enough to brush hers as he speaks. 

His lover shakes her head slowly, though her eyes are wide as a frightened doe’s and again Loki marvels at her acting skills. The blushing virgin indeed. For all her stated discomfort with lying, he thinks there might be a touch of the trickster in her, as well.

“Give yourself to me,” he croons, moving to kiss a meandering path down to the base of her throat. Slowly he peels the lace aside to expose her breast to the slightly chill air, his thumb continuing to tease her other breast though the fabric. “I, I can’t-” Jane groans, but it’s breathless and weak, pure capitulation. 

A kiss to the hollow of her throat, her pulse beating against his mouth, then Loki moves his kisses down to the bare, stiff peak. He flicks his tongue against it, Jane’s body tensing in response, then he pulls the taut flesh in between his lips and sucks. Softly at first, coaxing another moan out of her, then harder, pinching her other nipple firmly in the same moment. 

Jane’s head lolls against the stone-which-is-not, and Loki rises back to his full height, leering down at her. “Enjoyed that, did you? Let me assure you that such is _nothing_ compared to what is to come.”

He moves back to the end of the altar, standing between her legs again, reaching to touch her foot once more. It feels cold to the touch, so he wraps his warmer hand around it, thumb massaging gently underneath her toes and along the arch.

Jane raises her head, watching him with a slightly dazed expression before her neck muscles tire and her head falls back. In any other situation, he knows, she would likely be upbraiding him for the usual slow tease, but here it is expected. Besides, she is bound and has no power to influence matters, and he grins evilly at the thought.

Her juncture is cloaked in the shadow of her dress, hidden from his gaze, but he can still detect her arousal easily enough in the air, a sweet perfume heavy with promise.

His hand leaves her foot to brush over the cuff and up the inside of her leg, pushing the lace aside and spreading her legs slightly wider. Jane’s eyes flutter shut, a whimper emerging from her throat. Loki steps closer, pressing into the altar. His breath comes a little faster too, as he delights in the feel of her skin. _Always so smooth and soft._

Damp curls graze the backs of his fingers, but he doesn’t pause to test her responsiveness, not just yet. Soon, though. His caress continues to the other leg, moving leisurely down her thigh. It takes little more than a wave of his hand to grow the leg-irons by a link or two, yielding enough slack to make it easier to part her thighs wider. Finally he can see the dark gathering of hair, the gleaming edges of the tender folds beneath.

He is throbbing painfully within his breeches, tempting him to go faster, but he reins himself in impatiently. It will be all the sweeter for them both if he delays as long as possible. Though that does not mean he cannot toy with her in the meantime-

Loki moves to cup her womanhood, the slickness coating his fingers. Jane’s gasp is loudest of all this time, music to his discerning ears, and he smiles. “Yesssss,” he whispers, stroking her lightly, tracing the edges of her folds.

He leans forward, lowering his voice as if telling her a secret. “I will cast a spell whereby you will feel no pain when I pierce you. Watch me.” Certainly no such spell is required, but as it is part of the game he conjures a muted heat-spell, permitting the warmth to fan out from his dimly-glowing fingers into her sensitive flesh. Jane groans, her limbs stiffening. “There. You need fear neither discomfort nor pain.” 

When he dips a finger between her folds, pressing carefully into her center, her hips rock up to meet him as much as her bonds allow. “Good girl,” he praises her, masking another sly smile at her eagerness. Her warmth and wetness urge him on, and he adds another two fingers though he does not allow himself to toy with the tiny, swollen spot at the top of her juncture just yet. He relishes the thought of how sweetly she will moan when he finally does.

His long fingers scissor, stretching her tenderly, and Loki drinks in the sight of her: tiny hands clenched into fists, head thrown back with her lower lip caught between her teeth, skin starting to gleam with sweat in the inconstant light. “You are exquisite,” he murmurs to her, and it is entirely true. It’s difficult to resist the urge to drop all pretense and just _have_ her this instant.

Her walls squeeze and clutch at his fingers as if trying to keep him inside her forever, but he draws them out. Loki brings his digits to his mouth to suckle her flavor, tasting the wine of her lust. She’s watching him, her lips parted as she endeavors to catch her breath.

“Delicious,” he opines, allowing a depraved grin to adorn his face. “I must have… _more_.” Again, it takes only a wave of the hand to alter the illusion, to extend the end of the stone surface Jane is affixed to, enabling Loki to climb and lay full length with her with his head now positioned between her luscious legs.

He kisses the inside of one pinioned thigh, lingering there to inhale the familiar scent of her skin, then turns his head to brush his lips against her drenched folds. Jane cries out softly, her muscles tensing, and Loki pushes his own hips into the ‘stone’ beneath him, fruitlessly seeking to release some of the tension in his loins. _Soon enough_ , he coaches himself. The longer he waits, the more honeyed the release will be.

His hands glide up the insides of her smooth legs, then settle between them, parting her soft lips that he might better examine her, tantalize her. Her cheeks and chest, as far as he can tell in the firelight, have reddened, her breathing harsh in her throat as she tenses in delicious anticipation, and he is so very glad that The Other’s cruelty had not ruined this kind of play for them. 

Loki adores the different degrees of softness as he presses his mouth to her lower mouth, in a kiss far more intimate than many. The tickle of her little curls on his chin, the near-velvety texture of her tender skin, the scent and the slipperiness. He would enjoy this regardless, he has for a long time, but somehow the fact that it is with _her_ makes it even better.

He delves deep into her, luxuriating in the salt of her sex on his tongue, before moving higher to finally, finally touch that tiny, aching spot. Jane cries out again, back arching like a bow as her loudest noise yet spills out of her lungs. He is sure it will not be her most clamorous of the night, though it urges him on, stroking and suckling. 

Soon a choice lies before him; he can tell she is a hairsbreadth away from agonizing pleasure, and it is entirely in his hands (and lips and tongue) whether she goes over the precipice, or he stops to torment her gently with a delay.

Given his future plan, he decides to ease her into climax now, his fingers moving harder and faster against her walls, suckling the tense little knob of flesh between his lips. Jane stiffens, something like a quiet scream tumbling from her gaping mouth, the strong muscles inside her clutching hot around his thrusting hand.

He waits until she slumps on the stone, sated, before he kneels up on the altar, eyes devouring her sweat-dewed form as he unlaces himself as slowly as he can bear. Loki could remove his entire armour with a gesture, but it amuses him to take her like this, like the barbarian god he is aping, unclothed only just enough to bare the sole weapon he will wield in this little ceremony.

The gods of old certainly had not been concerned about contraception, but Loki would never forgive himself if he got Jane with child before discussing such matters with her – assuming he wishes to father offspring, or that humans and...what he is, can mate – and it takes little effort to conjure one of Jane’s ‘condoms’ from his pocket dimension, though he conceals what he is doing in both illusion and flickering shadow.

A final bit of magic renders the condom similarly invisible, so that it will not interfere in the scene. Though Loki doubts that Jane would notice, given her eyes are closed and her face slack still when Loki eases himself deeply into her fevered quim.

She gasps, her lovely brown eyes opening wide, and though Loki knows it is in pleasure, consummate actor that he is, he maintains his role: “Hush now. I know that could not have hurt. Yield to me now, little one.” He looms over her, gradually working the lacings of the dress free and pushing the material down and away. It is pretty, but now it is also a barrier that he no longer desires to have between them. He takes a nipple between careful teeth, his hips rocking gently along hers, then he stretches further to claim the sweetness of her mouth, his tongue swirling. 

He knows her body well, what pace to set and which angle of sensual attack will have her writhing and moaning under him within moments. Loki rubs against her, aware of how the drag of leather and metal across her skin adds to her enjoyment (and thus his) as he begins to move ever harder inside her.

It’s difficult not to accompany her over the edge as she climaxes again, her little hands clenched once more and sweat gathering in the hollow of her throat as her head tilts back on the altar, her cries rising to brush the ruined ceiling. Difficult, but not impossible; he is not some youth new to rutting. 

He waits until he is sure he has her attention, then allows a soft rumbling growl to escape his chest. “Definitely exquisite,” he repeats with a leer. “But alas sweet as you are, my little mortal, sadly you are NO virgin.” Loki pulls out of her as Jane looks on, wide-eyed and confused.

Loki turns to address the congregation, which has fallen silent. “I am _not_ impressed,” he says lightly. He must tread carefully, as he does not wish to do anything which will frighten Jane, especially given her recent experiences at the hands of The Other.

“You call me here, beg for my favour, and offer me the promise of purity…yet you do not make the effort to _verify_ that such is the case?” He shakes his head slowly as he steps towards them. “How foolish mortals can be,” he laments with a sigh.

“You are very fortunate,” he continues, “that I do not wish to terrify the little one. So I will allow you to leave now with your lives intact…though I will _not_ be granting the boons you requested.” 

The cloaked figures hesitate, so Loki goads them with: “Leave _now_ , before I change my mind, you imbeciles.” He alters the illusion with the tiniest movement of his right hand, and within seconds, the only two occupants of the ruins are Loki and his delectable ‘victim’.

He turns back to her with a satisfied smile, allowing her to witness the continued evidence of his desire, thick and rigid and still glistening from the earlier embrace of her core.

Poor Jane appears very confused by his little show, tugging on her bonds as she tries to track him with her eyes. “Loki, what the-?”

“Hush now,” he says again, pretending to misunderstand her concern. “I do not know how you came to lose your maidenhead, but I detest the notion of punishing you. No doubt, as I said earlier, they told you I meant to have your life, and therefore you thought to spare yourself by yielding your virginity to another, yes?”

Jane narrows her eyes at him, then decides to go along. Her head drops back onto the altar as she answers him, her voice a sigh: “Yes.”

Loki nods. “But I also mislike the idea of leaving without what I came for. It takes no small amount of exertion and magic to travel the pathways of Yggdrasil to reach Midgard.” He cocks his head, stifling a diabolical grin as he places a hand on her belly, fingers splayed across the expanse of silky skin. “Perhaps there is something _else_ you may gift me with, a ‘first time’ of a different sort?”

Her brow scrunches and her lips purse as she puzzles over his words, though he can tell her thoughts are scattering as his fingers graze over her soaked curls, before he slips a finger into her again, slickening it.

“I am sadly not the first to breach you here…but tell me, my lovely one, has anyone yet taken you… _here_?” Prizing his finger from the eager clasp of her core, he moves still lower, lightly massaging the tight, puckered entrance between the rounds of her backside.

Jane squeals so loudly it echoes several times in the ruined chamber. “Loki!” she protests. “Now come on! Can’t you be satisfied with-”

“Satisfaction is not in my nature,” he informs her, smiling gently. He removes his hand, allowing it to rest on her thigh. “Tell me now, my dear, have you ever welcomed a lover there before?” She shakes her head, protest written all over her delicate features. “So noted. And yet, did it _hurt_ when I touched you just now?” he points out, reasonably.

She bites her lip, and he is certain his clever mortal is thinking back to the conversation they had on related matters, soon before The Other took her. “No.”

“Do you fear that I _will_ hurt you?” he queries, and Jane shakes her head again. Though it is troublesome to be certain in the flickering torchlight, she appears to be blushing.

“Again, no. But that doesn’t mean I am…comfortable with the idea,” she replies assertively, defiance creeping into her tone.

Loki strokes her leg as he thinks, dropping role for a moment. “Completely understandable. And yet, as we discussed before, it seems rather judgmental to dismiss an act out of hand, simply because you _believe_ you will not enjoy it. If you have never attempted it, how do you know? As a scientist, would you not at least seek to…gather the data first?” he finishes, proud of himself for remembering the proper Midgardian terminology.

Jane frowns and Loki can tell she is turning the issue over in her mind. 

“Are you not the _least_ bit curious?” he queries gently. “Besides, I am not some clumsy, inexperienced Midgardian male. I have done this before…if not with _you_.”

She cocks her head, still considering matters. “Give me your trust once again, Jane.” Loki urges. “You have trusted me thus far, have you not? I have not abused that trust, unless there are matters you are not discussing with me.”

A slow shake of her head meets his words, though it is obvious she remains somewhat uncertain. “No, you haven’t, and there isn’t.” A tiny smile hovers on her comely lips.

“I will go slowly with you, my Jane,” he promises. “In deference to this being your deflowering, I will be gentle.”

Jane laughs loudly at that. “You’re _terrible_.”

He gifts her with his most wicked grin and a wink. “Many would agree with your observation, I am sure.” He steps back from the altar to consider how best to proceed

A twist of his magic loosens Jane’s chains slightly. Not enough to allow much movement on her part, but enough to ease the tension on her limbs. Another swirl of power opens his pocket dimension again, and from it he plucks a little bottle of oil. Asgardian in origin, it is usually employed in sensual massage due to its soothing warming properties, and it will work perfectly for his purpose here.

Another little spell shortens and modifies the altar so that Loki may stand as close between Jane’s legs as he can, while she remains bound. If she wishes to be freed, he will immediately do so, but as it is possible she would prefer the illusion that she has no control and thus bears no responsibility for what is about to transpire, for the moment he allows the bindings to remain.

With a last wave of his hand, most of Loki’s attire dissolves away, though his pants (still unlaced) and boots remain. At the same moment he removes the illusion over his shaft, in case seeing the condom may ease any concerns Jane might have.

Stepping back between her legs, Loki uncorks the bottle and pours a little oil into his palm. The scent of it leaves him unexpectedly homesick for a split second, as the floral notes are unlike anything he has ever encountered outside of Asgard. But he sets that aside; his focus must lie elsewhere right now.

He smiles encouragingly at Jane as he slowly works the oil first into the soft skin of her belly, then with greater pressure into the muscles of each thigh. There’s no hurry, and he can feel her tension ebbing as he works. She is watching him, her gaze on the flexing of his arms and chest as he goes about his self-appointed task, and it’s apparent she likes what she is seeing. Loki feels a rare thrill of pride at that. 

Yet another reason to never show her the face of the monster.

Again, he pulls his concentration back to the present moment, pouring another measure of oil into his palm. He starts higher than his eventual target, carefully smoothing the oil between her legs, allowing that slickness to merge with the sweet slickness already there. Loki makes sure to graze against the tight little bead of flesh, and the sensitive little folds underneath. Her hips push forward just a little into his hands, Jane’s eyes now half-closing. Inspired by her reaction, Loki leaves one hand there, his palm firm over her clit, as his other hand trails lower and his inquisitive fingers find that other sensitive entrance.

She utters a strangled little noise, legs tugging on her bonds as his touch glides in little circles, methodically applying the oil. He can feel the warming properties of the oil now, creating a pleasant tingle which he is sure Jane enjoys as well. He remains there for a time, caressing her tender skin, until he detects her relaxing ever so slightly.

He allows himself to press a single finger against the small puckered hole. Jane’s resistance increases immediately, her mouth falling open and her cheeks flushed, but Loki moves the heel of his hand a little more firmly over her nub, circling, flooding her senses with bliss. She shudders, her breathing speeding up, and he is finally able to breach her, his finger slipping into her more easily than he had dared hope.

He stops his advance when he is just past the first knuckle, enjoying the snug grip of her, giving her time to adjust. “Are you well, my love?” he asks. She nods, obviously not trusting herself to speak.

Loki lifts his hand from the seat of her pleasure just long enough to pour more oil into the crease between her buttocks, so that he may add another finger. He eases it inside until he’s up to the second knuckle, before deciding to go no deeper. After a few moments to let Jane to get used to the feeling, he skillfully works a third greased finger gradually into her. Once more he massages her little nub as he does so, to cause shocks of pleasure to roll through her and hopefully erase any slight discomfort he is causing.

Once he judges her ready, he moves his fingers slowly in and out, striving to loosen the tight muscles just enough. Long minutes pass as he patiently coaxes Jane’s body into yielding to his efforts. As far as he can tell by the compliant movements of her hips and the soft moans that drift on her breaths, she is gaining delight from his ministrations.

She is nearly begging him for more by the time he permits himself to withdraw, casting a quick spell to tidy his hand. “Ready, my love?” he asks. At her nod, he pours the very last dregs of the oil over his aching length, spreading it lavishly. 

He _needs_ her, needs to be deep inside her, but he grits his teeth for control as he brushes the head of his length along her opening. To her credit, he can feel her working to relax, to welcome him into her body. His patience is rewarded as he finds himself sliding into her with ease. 

Loki watches her face carefully for any signs of discomfort or pain as he advances. He halts himself when he is only a few inches into her tight grip, but it will more than suffice. It is utterly perfect, heat and snugness and slickness blissfully enveloping him, and he stops, his eyes closed to fully revel in the moment. 

“Truly exquisite,” he reiterates in a murmur, opening his eyes and smiling at his Jane, who returns the smile. “I am going to move,” he says to her. “Slowly. But if at any point I am hurting you, do not hesitate to inform me.”

He waits for her assent, though right after she gives it, her hips jerk and her mouth opens in another lovely noise as his hand finds the dainty little bead and rubs it once more. 

Gripping her hip as hard as he dares to steady her, he rocks slow against her, moving in small increments. At least until base instinct takes over and she begins to match him thrust for thrust. He tightens his jaw until it aches, battling not to press forward any deeper, the gorgeous blaze of sensation beginning to gather along his spine, coiling at the base of his loins. Soon, soon, but not _yet_. Loki desires for Jane to reach completion first.

An absolutely naughty idea occurs to him, and Loki shifts the hand that is caressing between her legs. In a quick motion two of his fingers enter her core, kneading all the sensitive points deep inside, and Jane utters a choked-off whimper, her hips flexing helplessly. 

When his thumb finds her clit and works it in little circles once more, this time she _screams_ , and just like that he has pushed her over the edge. Her little body arches against the chains so hard that for a moment he fears she might injure herself.

Then the strong muscles inside her flutter and clutch at his fingers and his length, stroking him right back. He can _feel_ the fingers he still has within her, feel them against his shaft through the thin wall of flesh that separates them, and it is everything together: the sweet music of the sounds Jane utters, the fever-heat of her core, the grasping clutch of her walls and of his own body against itself _through_ her…the growl seems to birth itself from the very root of his loins. As it climbs up into his lungs and chest, he gives one last deep thrust and stops, shuddering all over as hot and cold pour over him in alternating waves, releasing himself within her at last.

With both hands braced on the altar, his heart thudding loud in his ears, Loki waits for control to return, before he slowly eases out of her. It takes relatively little magic to cleanse the two of them, followed by another quick, clandestine spell to make sure he has not caused her any harm. Not that he could do much about it if he had, as he can only heal himself…but fortunately all his early efforts paid off, and he can detect no injury.

Jane stirs, her body coated in sweat and limp as a rag. She rolls her head towards him as he lethargically rounds the altar to stand by her side. “W- wow,” she declares, clearing her throat as her voice tries to fail her. “That was…good. _Really_ good.” She blinks, trying to reach her delicate hand out to twine her fingers through his, though the chains stop her and he has to meet her more than halfway. 

“And please do _not_ tell me we’re not done yet, because I don’t think I can take any more,” she asserts, and Loki has to laugh, the delighted sound booming in the ruins.

“No, I believe I have exhausted you – and myself - sufficiently,” Loki concedes. Closing his eyes he tugs on his magic, folding the illusion into nothing around them both.

In a curling flash of green and white, they are back in Jane’s abode, lying on her bed tucked neatly under the bed-clothes. 

His little mortal wraps her arms around him, and he responds in kind, cradling her against his chest. “You never actually did something like that for _real_ , did you? Took a virgin sacrifice?” she asks sleepily, ever the researcher. “Because I haven’t found any evidence in the books I’ve read that the Vikings even practiced it…” Her words trail off, her eyes closed and her face softened by fatigue.

He chuckles. “On Midgard? No. Oh, there were offerings of food and occasionally of the lives of animals, but no, nothing at all like we enacted tonight. In other Realms, though? It has happened on occasion, I admit. But even in such cases, it was most often a lovely maiden calling on me of her own volition, offering herself in exchange for my favour, and they were not often virgins.”

“Even when a virgin was offered, I never forced any to comply. Asgardians do not value so-called ‘purity’ the way you Midgardians do, and in any case I prefer _experienced_ partners. The few virgins I have bedded I have always found to be rather…timid. Such does not entice me. And if my partner is to suffer pain, I would rather it be a pain of my choosing.” He smirks.

Jane grins as well though her eyelids remain shut, and he is fairly certain she is thinking back to their encounter in the illusion-forest, when she had felt the weight of his hand on her delectable rear.

“Sleep, my love,” he encourages her. “Thank you for indulging your god.”

She is rolling her eyes (as usual) even though they are still closed, her lashes dark against her cheeks, and Loki smiles affectionately. She will sleep now, as soon will he. He has plans to make regarding Jane’s Bifröst and how he can best protect her if needed, but he will have plenty of time tomorrow for such matters.

For now, he prefers to hold his consort in his arms and feel awe once again at how he has not managed to lose her, especially after all his past foolishness. 

A taunting voice haunts his thoughts. _Perhaps you are not the threat. Perhaps it will come from elsewhere. Can you trust the_ universe _not to take her from you?_ The voice sounds eerily like that of Thanos.

He tightens his arms around Jane defensively, though he loosens them again when she mutters at his constricting grip. 

_ If any would take Jane from me,  _ let _them come_ , he hisses in his mind _. I will carve them into pieces and bury them deep in bloodied, ensorcelled earth. This I_ promise _._

It is this defiant thought that he carries down into slumber with him.

***

Jane floats in a kind of halfway state; on the verge of sleep, but her brain is still buzzing along. Her body is heavy as lead, and thanks to Loki’s arms around her, very warm. 

But her mind is holding on, denying her a final descent into sleep. _I’m so close,_ she’s thinking, so near to realizing the goal that has frustrated her for so long. Finally she’s on the verge of building her bridge to the stars.

Being so near the end is almost unbearable. Somehow this is harder than all those years when she didn’t know if her ideas were totally crazy, or if she could find funding, or if she had the skills necessary to develop the measuring and generating devices by herself…no, it’s now, now when she is nearly _there_ , that is somehow the most difficult. Both not knowing if it will work at all, and the fact that she is _about to find out for sure_. It’s like an itch she can’t scratch, and even with everything she and Loki have done tonight to tire her out and distract her, it’s still seething there under the surface of her every drowsy thought.

_ Loki, _ she thinks with an affectionate smile, cracking one eye open. He’s asleep and snoring quietly (and how he would deny it, she’s sure, if she told him he snores), his features soft and vulnerable. He looks much younger than he does when awake.

Part of her still can’t believe that he came back, and that they are, well, _working_ as a real couple. Not just as a no-strings-attached-kinky-sex-‘arrangement’ thing. That he’s being more open with her.

_ As far as you know, _ interjects the negative little voice, but it’s easier to brush that aside than it used to be.

Then Jane frowns. She can tell Loki is jealous of Tony, and she suspects Loki wants more direct involvement in this lifelong dream of hers, especially at the moment of its realization. She’s sure it’s only because this is so important to _her_ that he wants to be involved, and not because he has an army waiting on the other side. Even if that’s what Erik, and probably Nick Fury and SHIELD believe, Jane just doesn’t buy it. It just doesn’t fit the man she knows.

She sighs softly and snuggles closer to Loki. With luck, things will only improve for him here on Earth once Jane’s wormhole generator gives them a direct path to Asgard. If Thor can get here more easily and often, and intervene on Loki’s behalf with her fellow humans, and if Thor and Asgard _and_ Loki can work together to help defend both Earth and Asgard from Thanos, if and when the latter gets here…

Or maybe Earth can help Asgard somehow, and Loki can involve himself with that? The Asgardian Bifröst is still non-functional as far as Jane knows, so maybe they’d want to use hers in the meantime. Or they’d need some other kind of help? It seems only fair to Jane. If Asgard did defend them against the Frost Giants centuries ago, then doesn’t Earth _owe_ them? They've never repaid that debt, at least not that Jane is aware of.

But this all assumes that her bridge will work, which takes her right back to the issue at hand. 

_ Will it work? _ The agony of having to _wait_ , of not knowing…

But if it does…she’ll have attained her dream in spite of all the obstacles (especially lately) that life has seen fit to throw in her path. A mental image of The Other tries to invade her thoughts, but Jane pushes it aside with a surge of anger. _No way. Thanos and his assholes aren’t going to win, aren’t going to stop me._

She’s going to do this. In her lifetime, the people of Earth will be visiting other worlds, whether her bridge works when they test it next week (hopefully!), or in a few weeks, months, or years, after they work out any bugs (if there are any!).

All made possible by her thinking outside the box and not kowtowing to the bullies in the scientific community, and the funding agencies. By her sticking to her dream and working hard, even when nobody (except Erik) was offering help or encouragement.

Also with a little help from a couple of Norse gods, of all things. To give her that last push, to prove that there _was_ something out there to bother reaching for.

Jane smiles in the dark. So close now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane is at last in a position to test her Einstein-Rosen bridge theories…and Loki is going to make sure he has a ringside seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Thanks as always to canyr12. :)  
> Disclaimer: Loki, Jane and the rest of them don’t belong to me. I can’t afford to house and feed them, are you kidding me? 
> 
> Author's Note: Only two chapters left to go (Chapter 3 of this, and an Epilogue)! OMG, OMG! *disbelief*  
>  
> 
> Banner made by cincoflex; fanart by Plasmapulp

From Jane’s perspective, Saturday moves slower than cold molasses. Tony had been enough of a gentleman to call mid-morning and let her know that everything arrived safely in  Nevada , but that they also had to wait on SHIELD’s authorization for the next step. His irritation had mirrored Jane’s own, even though she’d turned down his offer to, in his words, ‘commit a little B&E and start assembling everything anyway’. 

The _last_ thing Jane needs is for SHIELD to decide she’s being uncooperative and can the project entirely. In a way that would be even worse than enduring The Other’s torture.

So she spends all afternoon Saturday pacing the floor, occasionally glancing anxiously at the phone, while Loki does his best to distract her with more ‘corrected’ Norse mythology. Darcy too lends a hand, arriving at dinnertime to drag them both out to Izzy’s diner. Jane appreciates both their efforts, but the delays grate at her. 

Even though she knows it could be days, if not weeks because bureaucracy moves that slowly, it doesn’t help.

Finally, _finally_ on Sunday, an hour from the time Jane gets up after a sleepless night (despite Loki’s best efforts between the bed-sheets), word comes down that Fury has approved the re-assembly stage. After a quick bit of spell-casting by Loki, Jane finds herself standing outside a sandy hill with an ugly metal door built into it in the middle of another sweltering desert.

_ A bunker? Wow, they really are taking _ no _chances._

“I will wish you a very productive day, Jane,” Loki says encouragingly. He kisses her firmly, and perhaps just a few seconds longer than necessary (which Jane decides is most likely for the benefit of the five SHIELD agents in riot gear standing impassively around the metal doors), before Loki vanishes in a whirl of pale green light.

Squaring her shoulders - (a) she has every right to be romantically involved with the ‘god’ who nearly leveled New York, and (b) if he wants to bring her to work, that’s nobody’s business but hers - Jane marches purposefully past the guards and down a short, echoing stairway into the cool interior of the bunker, her eyes taking a while to adjust after the blinding sunlight outdoors.

Coulson is there waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, and Jane relaxes slightly at the sight of him. _A familiar face, thank God._

“Doctor Foster,” he greets her. He’s all business, though Jane knows him well enough by now to recognize that the slight upward curve of his mouth means he’s glad to see her. “Please tell me you can handle Stark?” he begs in his deadpan way as they walk deeper into the bunker. “He’s got most of the lab personnel either in tears or ready to quit by now.”

“What?” Jane walks faster. Coulson stops in front of a metal door that squeaks alarmingly when he opens it, and Jane hurries in first. 

The lab space takes her breath away. It’s huge, maybe as large as a football field. Which is a really good thing, considering how big Tony’s new arc-reactor is; it takes up nearly a third of the space. Then there’s her homemade equipment, all of it still crated up and managing to take up most of the leftover wall-space. 

In the middle of it all is billionaire and superhero Tony Stark, dressed in a worn-out AC/DC tee shirt and jeans with ripped knees, loudly criticizing a frustrated-looking man in a lab coat. 

“No!” Tony is nearly shouting as Jane approaches them, “No, no, _no_. I wrote up the damned specs myself, OK? Last I checked, _I_ was the genius here, and-” His eyes light up as Jane enters his field of vision. “OK, scratch that. Me _and_ Doc Foster here. So no, you do what _we_ say. Capisce?”

“But, Mr. Stark, shouldn’t we test your reactor at minimal power first, just to be su-“

“Christ Almighty!” Tony exclaims, holding up his hands, “I already did that back in the Big Apple. More than once, might I add. Can we just get _on_ with it? Honestly,” he continues, turning to Jane, “I guess I know why they didn’t want me to bring Pepper. We’ve got the _male_ stand-in already here.” He jabs a thumb back at flustered lab technician.

Jane resists the powerful urge to rub her temples, hard. “What can it hurt, Tony? Something may have gotten damaged in the flight, or left out in the reassembly. Accidents happen. Have you checked yet to see if the reactor even powers up?”

Tony puts a hand over the miniature reactor on his chest. “Ouch! That _hurts_ , Jane,” he says. “Don’t you trust my engineering capabilities?”

“I trust them fine,” Jane counters as calmly as she can. “But I’ve been building equipment long enough to know that it’s about two parts science and one part art, and things suddenly stop working all the time. And this thing has been taken almost completely apart and put back together just to get here,” she points out as reasonably as she can, motioning with her elbow at the arc-reactor.

“I _told_ Stark he should wait for you,” Coulson remarks behind her in his dry, faintly amused voice.

“And you just know Fury will insist on the reactor being thoroughly tested before we get to hook it up to the portal generator,” Jane adds, glancing at Coulson for confirmation. “So the sooner we run all the tests, the sooner we can get to the-“

“Fun stuff,” Tony finishes for her. “Fine, fine,” he grumbles, still glaring at the lab tech. “Let’s just do it, then.”

Jane follows Tony and the tech to the operating panel of the reactor, pretending to ignore the curious, awed stares from the lab personnel, as well as the colder gazes of the heavily-armed SHIELD guards standing on the fringes of the room.

It’s a reminder that despite the reassuring presence of Tony and Coulson, Jane is not on friendly territory here. 

_ Doesn’t matter. I’ve been though worse. _

She pulls her notebook out of her backpack, clicks down the black ink side of her lucky four-colour pen, and starts jotting down notes.

* * *

The Midgardians, if they are there to protect Jane’s project from _him_ , are laughably outmatched. Loki sports an almost permanent smirk at their foolishness as he stands cloaked in the shadows, watching Jane and the rest of them work like busy little ants.

From what he can gather, they are running trials with the giant heart-star first to make sure it is functioning properly. Stark grumbles almost constantly and immediately runs the star at almost maximum power despite the admonitions of their ‘helpers’, but nothing untoward happens. Loki is grateful, if only for Jane’s sake. He has to grin at the look Jane and the Son of Coul exchange over Stark’s juvenile antics. Clearly Loki is not the only one wearied by the metal man and his insolence.

Once they are satisfied with the performance of the star the mortals discuss a plan to unpack and reassemble Jane’s equipment. She is clearly embarrassed by the handmade nature of most of her devices, but Stark is frankly admiring of her handiwork, and Loki sets himself to endure his spike of jealousy. 

His poor mortal is obviously not used to taking a leadership role; she is trying too hard to be everywhere at once and do everything at once, and she is becoming as overwhelmed and frantic as Loki has ever seen her. He wishes once more that the humans were less paranoid so that he could reveal himself. He is convinced that his presence would only help calm and center Jane.

Still, they are managing to progress. Within the next three hours Jane has managed to guide their helpers into constructing something she calls ‘the main generator’, and something else she calls a ‘gravimetric stabilizer’. As they reassemble each machine, Jane explains what each one does to a small audience composed of Stark, the Son of Coul, and the person in the lab coat who appears to be the leader of their helpers. Loki has to stretch out his senses to overhear their discourse, though that is no great feat to one such as him.

Anger slithers through his belly at the reminder that he is ever the outsider. He cannot be part of the group directly supporting Jane in her work here. 

Be it in Asgard or Midgard, there are few (if any) who trust him. So he is forced to lurk on the sidelines, when he could be right there, in the middle of this important moment in Jane’s existence-

He feels a spiked tingle running along the centre of his bones. It raises the hackles on his neck, and Loki’s eyes widen in alarm. For a terrible endless moment, his mind goes utterly blank. 

Reason comes back to him reluctantly. _No. By Yggdrasil_ -

Loki hopes it is not what he fears. He rapidly magicks himself out to the desert near Jane’s city to check his warning spells, fear twisting his gut into tight knots.

As he materializes he summons his plate armour around him, then he stalks the perimeter of his spell-work. The strands of power still echo with the silent pulse of the alarm, but what they are indicating, Loki knows not. If it is Thanos or one of his agents, and how many, or where, all that he cannot ascertain. 

But there are other priorities.

_ Jane. _ He must not waste any time. He will see her to safety first, then he will return here to determine if he can locate and identify the threat.

His magic returns him to his former position against the wall in SHIELD’s underground fortress, though Loki ponders the wisdom of revealing himself long enough to snatch Jane away. SHIELD will not react well, Loki predicts, if he does so. On the other hand, if Thanos _is_ here now, he doubts Jane’s project will remain SHIELD’s first concern.

He looks about the cavernous room for her…

_ She is not here. _ An all-too-familiar panic grips him in razor claws. Does Thanos have her already? Did he steal her away in those mere seconds Loki was away verifying the alarm?

Loki squeezes his hands into rigid fists and forces himself to breathe slowly. Just as when The Other had her, he cannot help Jane if he gives in to terror. It is then he notices that neither Stark, nor the Son of Coul, nor indeed any of the other Midgardians seems concerned about Jane’s absence. Surely then she was not snatched mid-task from this room, as even Loki himself was contemplating doing moments ago. There would be an outcry.

Loki takes another centering breath and extends his senses over the underground facility, searching for the torc. Relief floods his veins as he senses her nearby. He may have been too late to defend her before, but not _this_ time.

* * *

Jane blushes and shakes her head as Tony closely examines the innards of the device Jane calls her ‘energy centrifuge’ (Darcy tends to refer to it as ‘that whirly thingie’), studying the cobbled-together bits and wiring. “You did all this by hand, by yourself? _Nice_.”

“I did what I had to,” Jane answers, shrugging off his compliment. “Little money, few resources, and nobody else’s designs to start from…”

“Which makes it all the more awesome,” Tony points out, grinning up at her. 

“If you say so,” Jane replies with an uncomfortable laugh. She’s already on-edge, but Tony’s praise isn’t helping much. Part of it is the fact she’s sharing her work with so many strangers, and that would be hard enough if she wasn’t already so accustomed to working alone. Well, working only with Darcy and sometimes Erik, but they have their system and it works for them.

Now she has to manage all these people, when she’s already not a social butterfly, also while teaching them what exactly her equipment does. Or is theoretically supposed to do, given much of it is untested. Then there’s well-meaning Tony praising her every five minutes or so, and through it all Coulson is standing there observing everything. No doubt he’s going to be reporting to Fury daily, and that only reminds Jane that SHIELD could shut this whole thing down any time they want to.

For them to do that, when she’s so close to success… _That’s part of the problem too,_ she realizes. Her hands are near-constantly shaking in anticipation, even though logically she knows they are days, maybe even weeks away from having an actual star-system-crossing test of the portal. 

But they’re so close now. Her goal is within reach.

Which then reminds her that she needs a place to open the portal _to_. The obvious choice is Asgard. She and Tony have already agreed on that (as did Erik, when she mentioned it to him over the phone the other day), but she’ll need some kind of coordinates to program into the targeting computer system. She wonders if Loki can help with that. She needs coordinates in three dimensions, in terms she can understand…and also where exactly they might wind up. She doesn’t want to walk through the portal and end up in Loki’s adoptive parents’ bedroom (though she wouldn’t put it past the God of Mischief to do that)!

Lost in thought Jane reaches absently for her cup of coffee, but the inch or so of liquid left in it is stone-cold. She grimaces and excuses herself, setting a half-reconstructed device aside. Coffee is, as always, pretty much the only thing she’ll drop everything for. Food and sleep have always been _much_ further down the list, and usually it’s Darcy (or Erik, when he’s around) who reminds her about those things. 

_ God, I wish Erik or Darcy was here. Especially Erik. _ But he still won’t relent, and though she understands his reasons, it doesn’t lessen the sadness she feels.

But her work has to continue, so Jane brushes those feelings aside. She walks quickly down a short hallway and pushes open the door to a tiny closet of a room where they keep the coffee machine, and she wonders who might fill that mother-hen-type role for her here. Tony seems nearly as single-minded as Jane in regards to the portal research, so he’s probably out. Perhaps Agent Coulson? He’s more on the outside, not caught up in the maelstrom of scientific activity like everyone else here.

She wonders, if SHIELD had allowed Loki to be here, how Loki might have reacted. Would he have helped? Or would he have sat back and watched them all with a combination of disdain and amusement?

Jane shakes her head as she refills her mug. Of course she’ll never know. _If my portal works, will they let him on-site_ then? She stops to think about whether she dares try to sneak Loki in at that point, to show him what she’s accomplished. Once they’ve opened their first successful wormhole to Asgard-

Strong hands close tightly over her shoulders, and Jane shrieks and drops the entire mug of coffee on the floor, where it shatters. Hot coffee and shards of pottery fly everywhere.

Adrenalin speeds the blood through her veins, and she starts to struggle against that iron grip as she is pulled back against a hard chest. She tries to scream but one of the hands clamps over her mouth. 

For a second that feels like forever, Jane is back on the dark, airless asteroid, in the grip of alien fingers. _The Other, it_ has _me-_

“Forgive me, Jane.” The voice is familiar, though it isn’t The Other’s voice – _and it’s dead, Loki killed it_ – and that helps thrust the terrible memories aside. Jane goes still, the hand over her mouth dropping away and she twists to look back over her shoulder. It’s Loki, thank God, but now she feels confused _and_ afraid. He’s wearing his full-on battle armour, right down (up?) to the crazy horns, and he looks...scared.

His hand on her shoulder is still too tight, and his other hand now takes similar hold of her upper arm on the other side. “You must come with me. Right _now,_ ” he orders, his tones clipped and urgent. 

She starts to protest, but her vision goes white before the sentence is even half-formed in her brain. 

Loki releases her even as they materialize in a new place, and Jane stumbles and blinks spangles of light from her eyes. She doesn’t even get half a chance to see where she is before Loki’s face, looking pale and strained, fills her visual field again.

“Stay here,” he commands, voice harsh. “Do _not_ leave this abode. I will return when I may.”

“Loki, what the hell-“ but he’s already gone. 

Jane wraps her arms around her shaking self, breathing deeply to slow her racing heart. He had scared the heck out of her, grabbing her out of the blue like that. It reminds her too much of how The Other had kidnapped her before...

_ Don’t go there, _ she tells herself firmly. Instead, she looks for a distraction, such as checking out her immediate surroundings. It doesn’t take long to figure out she’s in some kind of one-room cabin in the forest. The walls and floor are rough, barely-sanded wood paneling, the furniture only slightly more finished, and when she cautiously twitches a curtain aside half an inch to peek out, it’s night outside, and all she can see is trees lit by moonlight. And covered in _snow_.

_ I’m definitely not in  _ _ Nevada _ _ anymore.  _

Even though it’s not a motel or hotel room, this situation reminds her a little of her early trysts with Loki, while she’d still been living in the trailer…except for the taste of fear in the back of Jane’s throat. 

Is it Thanos? That’s about the only thing Jane can think of that would frighten Loki so badly. The _only_ reason why he would just tear her away from her work like this.

Shivering harder at the thought, Jane continues to explore the cabin. She soon discovers something else mysterious. There are runes carved into the windowsills in each room, and she sees the edges of more of them etched around the cabin’s front door (though mindful of Loki’s warning, she doesn’t open it). At a guess it’s Loki’s handiwork, but as usual Jane has no clue what they’re for. Protection? She doesn’t know whether to feel better or worse about that.

If it’s Thanos… _This is bad. Really really bad._ She closes her shaky hand into a fist, working to slow her breathing again. She has no clue where she is, her cell phone is back in Nevada if she even wanted to use it, and Loki may be gone a while.

By her watch, he’s gone in fact for nearly twenty-three agonizingly tense minutes. When he reappears at last in the middle of the rustic living room, his expression is calmer, though still worried as he allows his armour to fade into his usual leather.

“Loki!” she exclaims as she virtually leaps up off the couch, all her anxiety coming out in her voice, “What-?”

He weaves an arm around her, cupping her face in his free hand and leaning his forehead against hers. “Forgive me, my Jane,” he repeats in a low murmur. “I am sorry if I frightened you. But something triggered my warning-spells, and I thought only to get you somewhere safe. Saf _er_.”

Jane raises a hand to wrap her fingers around his colder ones. “Is…is it Thanos?” she asks, her mouth bone-dry. In her mind’s eye, The Other smiles unpleasantly down at her, a blue-skinned hand reaching for her throat. 

Loki’s eyebrows come together as he shakes his head slightly. “It seems not,” he says, though he seems unconvinced. “I searched the entirety of Midgard with my most powerful magics, and found no sign of him nor any of his agents. And yet, _something_ was picked up by my spell-work.”

“You mean, it was a false alarm?”

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowed. “So it would seem. Still, I prefer to err on the side of caution.” His hand slides along her cheek and into her hair, and then he kisses her slowly and thoroughly, stealing her breath. “And that,” he says flatly when he releases her mouth at last, “is why you must stay here until I am completely certain that nothing is wrong.”

It takes a second for his words to sink into her scattered brain. “ _What_? No, I can’t do that, Loki. What about my Bridge?”

His mouth purses. “It will wait.”

Now it’s Jane’s turn to shake her head as she pushes away from him. “No, no more damned _waiting!_ You said yourself that you searched all over the planet and found nothing. What if it was just a glitch?”

He blinks at her. “A what?”

“A glitch,” Jane explains. “A mistake in your spells.”

Immediately Loki draws himself up taller. “I am a master of magic,” he declares with his usual arrogance, “and my spell-work does not include _mistakes_.”

“ _Everybody_ makes mistakes,” Jane insists. 

Loki frowns angrily down at her and takes a step forward, but Jane stands her ground, unwilling to be intimidated by him. “Perhaps others. I, however, do _not_. Something is here, or was here, and until I determine what-“

“No,” Jane scowls, though she’s fully aware she’s not in the strongest of bargaining positions. She’s in an unidentified place without even her wallet on her – that’s also in her backpack at the  Nevada facility – and if Loki decides to just teleport away and leave her here ‘for her own protection’, she’s pretty much stuck. “You’re doing that ‘unilateral decision-making’ thing again.” She folds her arms across her chest and raises a brow at him in completely false bravado. 

Loki glares back at her for what feels like forever, then finally sighs and raises a hand to his forehead, rubbing it. “Stubborn wench,” he mutters.

“Takes one to know one,” Jane shoots right back at him.

“Though the idea is not appealing, perhaps you should at least inform SHIELD as to what has occurred?“ Loki suggests, his tone on the verge of pleading.

“No fucking way,” Jane snarls. “Fury is looking for _any_ excuse to shut me down, I can feel it. If you’d actually found something, OK, that would be one thing. But until we know for sure what just happened, whether it really was a false alarm or not, I’m getting back to work. Right _now_.”

She steps purposefully towards him, as if she expects him to obey without question. He looks down at her thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed as he taps on his chin with his index finger. 

When he speaks, his voice has dropped down to the low purr that usually causes a pleasurable shiver to go up Jane’s spine. “If I bind you to that bed,” he muses out loud, an evil glint in his eye, “somehow I do not think you will argue too long or loud. Especially if I choose to remain here for a time to…entertain you.”

“After,” Jane insists, too annoyed to even blush at his lascivious suggestion. “When I am done my work for today, _then_ you can feel free to tie me down. But for now, I have important scientific research to get to.” When he doesn’t move, she glowers up at him. “Chop-chop, Loki.”

He looks puzzled by her choice of words, but he only sighs and mutters under his breath. There’s another flash of light, and Jane finds herself back in the hallway outside the coffee room again. 

Jane can hear worried voices filtering through the cheap wooden door. Putting on her best ‘I-wasn’t-doing-anything’ face, Jane marches into the room to find Coulson speaking quickly into his headset, and Tony staring at the remains of Jane’s coffee mug shattered on the floor.

“Jane!” Tony exclaims as he spots her, “Where the heck were you? Phil here is in the middle of calling the damned cavalry!” 

Coulson glances over at Jane, the tension on his face dissipating. “She just turned up, never mind,” he says into the headset, then he turns expectantly towards her, crossing his arms. 

_ If I tell them Loki nabbed me because he thought Thanos was here…no.  _ Jane sucks at lying, but it looks like she has no choice here. “Oh, sorry,” she laughs, pretending to be very embarrassed at all the fuss. “I dropped my damned mug – you know how clumsy I can be! - and then I couldn’t find any cleaning cloths in here and I went looking for the washroom, and I guess I got lost for a while before finding it. This place is like a maze!”

Tony’s eyebrows raise. “For over a half-hour?”

Jane tries not to blanch as she forces a laugh. _Oops._ _Uh-_ “Yeah, I’m kinda good at that. At getting lost, I mean. Just ask Darcy.” She attempts a self-deprecating smile.

“And after all that, you forgot to bring any paper towels back with you,” Coulson points out, his face unreadable even for him. 

“Oh,” Jane says lamely, looking down at her empty hands. _Fuck. I_ really _need to take lessons on this lying thing from Loki._

Tony and Coulson exchange meaningful glances, obviously not believing her story, but after a long, awkward moment Coulson goes to the sink and finds her a cloth to clean up the mess on the floor.

“Thanks,” Jane says, trying to smile again though it feels completely and obviously fake, even to her. Tony gathers up and throws out the broken ceramic for her while she blots up the large pool of coffee.

“There!” She says with false brightness after she rinses out and drapes the cloth on the faucet. “Back to work, then!” She brushes past the two men and quickly walks towards the lab, the tension only beginning to leave her shoulders when neither of them try to question her further.

She heads to the nearest hive of activity, currently around her homemade singularity generator. The last of her worries fades at last as Tony and Coulson reappear a minute or so later. Tony wordlessly comes over to hand her a fresh mug of coffee – Jane takes it with a blush and a grateful smile she doesn’t need to fake this time – and then he goes back to working on the uplink between the arc-reactor and Jane’s targeting computer system. Coulson returns to his usual observational post. If Coulson said anything to the SHIELD guards, it didn’t have much of an effect; they continue to somehow look both bored and yet ready for action at the same time.

She hates lying to Tony and Coulson, especially Tony, but she has little choice. If Fury does find out about the false alarm, she really does think he may shut her down. Even a temporary pause would be worse than torture for Jane right now, when she’s right on the verge of succeeding. She also doesn’t want SHIELD to know how easily Loki can get in here, for the identical reason.

Why screw everything up for herself, especially over a false alarm? Why give SHIELD a reason to panic if nothing is wrong? It wouldn’t make any logical sense. _And it has to be a false alarm,_ Jane thinks, reassuring herself. _What else_ could _it be? Loki said it himself; he looked all over the damned planet and found no sign of invasion, or anything else for that matter. I’m not closing up shop for a false alarm._

* * *

In the end, Jane feels perfectly entitled to have made that call. Loki checks the planet several times, including the moon (much to Jane’s surprise), and after a few days he agrees that it was probably nothing.

He still seems worried however. Whether it’s because his spells didn’t work properly, or because he’s not convinced it was a false alarm (despite the lack of evidence to the contrary), Jane doesn’t know. 

She wishes she understood more about magic, so that she could help him find out what happened. But at the same time, she realizes that even if she did know what to do to help, she just has no energy or time left to do anything about it. Stark-Foster is taking everything she has these days.

First, it takes them half a week to reassemble all of Jane’s homemade, jerry-rigged devices. Then comes the testing phase. _Lots_ of testing, as per SHIELD’s orders. 

Jane actually doesn’t have a problem with that. She does have a few kinks to work out, since she’s never actually put everything together in series like this. There never has been an opportunity before now. But her hands still shake nearly constantly with anticipation, as well as dread that somehow this will all be snatched away from her just before she can see it through.

But nothing happens except the expected set-backs that come with any research project, and once all her equipment is assembled and tested, there’s still work to be done. They still need to construct some kind of platform on which to generate the actual wormhole entrance itself, and she and Tony work on that together. That itself takes over a week, from conception and design to completed construction. 

Once the component parts are connected up, then comes yet another round of testing. SHIELD sends more ‘experts’ and agents, and Jane is hyperaware of them the entire time. It leaves her more on-edge than before, waiting for SHIELD to balk and call a halt to the entire project, and she ends each day utterly exhausted. It feels like an endless thesis defense, one where she has to defend her ideas over and over to skeptical examiners. At least she has a heavy-weight like Tony in her corner this time.

There’s Loki’s support too, of course. Sometimes she wishes he could be there, to intimidate the so-called ‘experts’ and ‘safety advisors’ into silence so that Jane can just move this fucking process _along._

He can’t help there, but he’s doing his best in other ways. Once in a while, to Jane’s complete astonishment, he actually has made her breakfast, and not with magic! His pancakes are pretty good, Jane is happy to discover, even if she’s not sure if the little bits of broccoli he included in the batter the last time were an acceptable attempt at culinary artistic license.

Loki has also filled the role of making sure Jane eats and sleeps, at least sometimes. He’s also convinced her to keep her once-weekly appointments with Doc Allen while all the action is going on at the  Nevada lab, though Jane has temporarily stopped dance-aerobics classes with Darcy. Life requires prioritizing.

Jane calls Erik every few days to keep him updated, though it makes her ache every time. Like Loki, if for entirely different reasons, Erik won’t be right there in the front row when she finally achieves her goal, but at least, also like Loki, Erik is still involved in his own way. 

Finally, after what seems like months, but Jane realizes afterwards is just over two-and-half weeks, SHIELD gives Jane and Tony the green light to run a local field-test.

Though Coulson doesn’t say it outright, when he lets Jane know that Fury and some members of the World Security Council will be on hand to witness the field-test, that’s when she realizes this is make-or-break. If everything doesn’t go by the book, SHIELD _will_ shelve the whole thing. Maybe permanently.

Which is one-hundred-percent why, the night before the big field-test, Jane works long into the evening, after a quick meal of shwarma that Tony had arranged with an exasperated Pepper to have flown in for them. 

First the technicians all go back to the SHIELD-approved hotel to sleep, then Coulson and half the SHIELD guards, and finally even Tony yawns and declares defeat. “It’ll go _fine_ , Jane,” he tries to reassure her, watching her shrewdly as she checks her calculations for the thousandth time. Next, she plans to double-check to make sure the targeting computer has the correct coordinates. As much as she would prefer to go to Asgard, this is supposed to be a _local_ test. 

Tony is willing to go straight to Asgard tomorrow morning regardless and take the flak, she knows, but Jane isn’t. Not when SHIELD has the power to end her dream, no matter what Tony says.

“Go home,” he urges her. “Get some sleep. It won’t work any better if you’re running on nothing but coffee fumes tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Jane says absently. “Maybe later.”

Tony rolls his eyes, addressing the nearest SHIELD guard. “Scientists. Crazy, right?” The guard says nothing, continuing to stare impassively. “Tough room, tough room,” Tony mutters as he exits with another yawn. Jane barely notices.

_ I’ll just double-check this one thing, then I’ll go outside and summon Loki, _ she promises herself.

Fifteen minutes later finds her repeating that promise. Then again another twenty minutes later.

The next time she glances at her watch, she’s shocked to see it’s past  midnight . _OK, I really_ will _go summon Loki, right after I-_

_ Jane. _

It’s Loki’s voice in her head, softly insistent.

_ Where are you? I await you outside. Don’t make me come in there and get you. I doubt the SHIELD warriors will approve. _

_ OK, OK, _ she thinks hurriedly, though she’s not sure if his telepathy is bi-directional or not.

She moves as quickly as she can, pretending to have been shocked by the time she saw on her watch so the guards won’t get suspicious. She tosses her notes and lucky pen into her backpack and strides quickly through the lab, down the hall, up the stairs, and through the small group of guards around the door to the bunker.

Jane crosses the tiny parking lot and ducks behind a low hill, the place where she usually meets Loki.  

“Hi,” she greets him, in a soft voice which will hopefully not attract any attention, just in case Loki isn’t hiding them from view. 

“I expected a delay given tomorrow’s event, but nothing so long as _this_ ,” Loki says by way of an answer, his tone disapproving. “Do you not see any wisdom in getting some rest before this important demonstration of yours?”

“I do, I just- Oh crap. I forget to verify the-“Jane starts to turn back in the direction of the lab. “Look, just give me another ten minutes, OK? It’ll be the last thing, I promise-“

Taking two long strides to stand next to her, Loki leans to her ear as his fingers curl around her upper arm. His voice goes right into its imperious, commanding mode. “It will wait. I will _not_ allow you to exhaust yourself into illness, fragile mortal that you are. I may be able to go days, even weeks, without food or sleep, but even in my brief experience I know that you humans cannot.”

Jane huffs and rolls her eyes, half-heartedly tugging against his hand. “Can you, just for once, get off the whole ‘god’ thing? I mean, really,” she retorts, though she continues to keep her voice low. 

His brows raise. “Why should I? It is the truth,” he points out loftily.

Jane rolls her eyes again and finally achieves her goal of freeing her arm from his fingers. “ _What_ ever.” 

Loki sighs, looking towards the stars as he shakes his head, then he catches her hand between both of his before she can restart the argument. In a literal flash, they are standing in the middle of her bedroom back in Puente Antiguo.

“As always, you are a stubborn wench,” he interrupts when she tries to protest. It’s an echo from earlier, when he brought her to his ‘safe-house’ in the woods, though his tone is affectionate now. As is: “Do I need to bind you to your bed, to ensure that you will take the rest you require? Because mark my words, I shall do so if you force my hand.” He smirks, looking her pointedly up and down, and Jane knows better than to call _that_ bluff.

She bites back a few choice words, but even she has to admit he has a point, damn him to hell – the bed sure does look tempting. 

“Fine,” she agrees, if reluctantly. She starts to remove her rumpled clothes, ignoring his interested gaze. “I’ll sleep,” she clarifies, just to shut down any ideas he might have in _that_ regard.  

Loki smirks in triumph but for once, wisely, he says nothing.

Pretending to ignore him, Jane climbs into the bed and yanks the covers over her head. _Arrogant bastard,_ she fumes. _He’s got a lot of nerve…_

She’s asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Loki keeps to his accustomed post hidden in the shadows as Jane and Stark perform their so-called ‘field-test’. Jane is nearly dancing from foot-to-foot in her barely concealed nervousness. Loki glares unseen at Fury and the small group of supposed dignitaries who have accompanied the Director this day to observe and judge, as they are the cause of Jane’s current misery.

He wishes he dared reveal himself so that he could go over there and gently remind Jane that she has survived far worse than the skeptical glares of a pack of insignificant mortals. Alas, he cannot, as such would only complicate the completion of Jane’s work even further.

Ruminating over Jane’s trials also reminds him of his own. Though he has continued his search of Midgard daily (sometimes twice daily) since his spells sounded the alarm, he has continuously found nothing of note. No Thanos, no Chitauri, nor any other agents of Thanos.

What then could have triggered his spells? He does not know, and that is not a comfort.

It does not comfort him either that Jane may have been correct about the…how had she termed it? ‘Glitch’? Yes. Bad enough that his magic has been grossly devalued by Asgard all these long years, but for it to be _flawed_ magic…Loki does not even want to contemplate such an embarrassment.

It is also rather disconcerting to admit to himself his hopes that Thanos, when he deigns to come to this part of Yggdrasil again, will attack the Realm Eternal first. The Midgardians are not even close to being prepared to take on Thanos’ armies, in Loki’s _very_ informed opinion, and Asgard’s defenses, though rarely used over the centuries, will fare better.

Should Thanos attack Asgard first and be defeated, how sweet would that outcome be? Loki need never concern himself again with defending Jane or this backwater of a Realm, nor to hide her, nor to go on the run. Certainly this possibility is far more reassuring to Loki than the notion of relying on SHIELD to give him aid. How imbecilic of them not to trust his word that they _ought_ to be preparing for war. Thanos is real, as real as the army which laid waste to their precious  New York , and pretending otherwise could cost the humans dearly.

But for the moment all seems well. Loki has even verified the current health and whereabouts of each Midgardian member of the Avengers team personally (if invisibly), since they had been the most visible agents of Thanos’ defeat here. Of course there is no need to do so with Stark, as Loki has the unenviable task of observing him on a daily basis. But the soldier from out of time, the two trained killers, and the mindless beast-man? That last had been a definite disappointment; Loki might have expected more from the creature which had laid him low so easily in New York, but the beast-man in his usual form is just so meek and…uninteresting. 

Nothing untoward appears to be happening with any of them.

The ‘field-test’ seems about to begin so Loki turns his attention back to it, gathering his magic loosely about him. He trusts Jane’s skills and (albeit reluctantly) Stark’s, therefore he does not expect any disastrous consequences to occur, but…what was it Jane had said before? A mixture of ‘science and art’? Best to be prepared for any eventuality. 

“May I present to you, gentlemen, _and_ lady,” Stark is announcing with his usual flippancy, inclining his head towards the single female member of the World Security Council in attendance, “the potential gateway to other worlds!” Jane, standing next to Stark, shakes her head slightly, and Loki knows her well enough to tell she is trying to conceal a nervous grimace.

“Let’s do this,” he adds to Jane in a lower voice. She nods, and they turn and begin to flip switches on the panels in front of them. “Jarvis,” Stark commands in louder tones again, “begin the local field-test. Start the reactor up and limit the output to twenty-five percent of max power.”

“Yes, sir,” answers a disembodied voice from the panel, and Loki watches the heart-star cycle up from its usual low spiraling of energy to a level much brighter. He stretches a thread of magic towards it, monitoring the stability of the energy. 

Strings of numbers too far away for Loki to easily make out – not that he would understand them if he could – begin to spool across several of the screens, and Jane and Tony bend to examine them. 

“Energy output stable at twenty-five percent,” the machine voice calmly confirms after a few moments.

“That’s our target for local portal generation,” Stark reminds Jane unnecessarily. Loki remembers the discussions he’d witnessed between Jane and Stark. Hardly necessary to ‘run everything into the ground’, as Stark had put it, for such short Bridge. “Ready, Jane?”

She nods and presses a large green button on the panel in front of her.

Loki watches closely as the series of Jane’s devices hums to life, and after a few seconds streams of pale blue energy emerge from the heart-star, sliding crackling down several thick cables towards a large platform on the far side of the room.

The cables braid together and twine around a large circular frame nearly two stories tall, and so the energy streams must follow, flowing around the circle until they come together in a vortex of light. 

The power continues to build, the star and several other machines humming louder and louder, and the light continues to brighten. Loki’s magic-enhanced senses feel the exact moment when the Bridge births itself from the light, reaching away from this loud, bright underground room.

The intensity of the light is nearly blinding, even to a being like Loki, and steam rises slowly from its surface. Below him, all the Midgardians, Jane included, are all donning glasses similar to Lady Darcy’s, though these are coloured in a dark shade. There is little to see in any case; like the Bifröst in Asgard, one cannot observe what lies beyond the rim of the gateway.

“OK, here goes nothing,” Stark mutters. He picks up something from the panel, and a few seconds later a small metal platform on wheels comes out from behind the row of panels. On top is a small clear cage (which rather puts Loki in mind of his cell in the floating fortress all those months ago), and in it a small furry animal. “Bon voyage, Albert. Enjoy the in-flight movie,” Stark says to it as he manipulates a little lever on the box he’s holding, and the platform bearing the animal in its cage moves across the floor towards the open Bifröst.

Loki watches it go, remembering also the discussion Stark and Jane had engaged in over the animal’s name. ‘Albert II’ had been the name of the first monkey in space, and though that mission had not ended well, Stark had said something about _this_ Albert faring better. “No parachutes are involved this time,” Stark had joked, and though that had little meaning to Loki, Jane had smiled optimistically.

Those assembled watch as the wheeled platform ascends the wide ramp leading up to the bright disc of light. Except for Stark and Jane, busy at their machines. “Keep the levels steady, Jarvis!” Stark orders. 

The wheeled platform finally reaches the steaming swirl of blue-white. A moment later, with barely a ripple of the portal’s surface, the animal and its conveyance are gone.

Stark grins broadly and chivalrously holds his elbow out for Jane to take. “Shall we go see if Al’s flight landed on time? I hate these damned commercial airliners,” he quips, and Loki looks heavenward in displeasure. 

It takes the humans some moments to organize themselves and follow after Stark and Jane, so Loki is there long before they make it outside. Clever of Jane, to have set the other end of the Bridge in the large empty stretch of windblown sand several yards outside the main doorway of the underground facility. 

Even from here, the hum of the heart-star is audible over the whispering of the wind, though the vibrations of it are especially evident to someone of Loki’s talents. 

The circle of light outside blazes just as the one inside is, sparring with the bright morning sunlight for dominance. Stuck in the sand just in front of the portal, there is the wheeled platform and its small furry passenger, grooming itself busily and with an utter lack of concern.

Loki grins in fierce triumph on Jane’s behalf. Her Bridge _works_.

Once they are closer enough to bear witness to Jane’s victory, Stark whoops (predictably), and Jane laughs, the gleeful sound raising Loki’s spirits even further. Despite the darkness and worries lurking at the edges of his thoughts, here at last is a point of blazing light.

Stark scoops up the little cage and holds it up for everyone to see. “Forget faster-than-light travel. What you’ve just seen, lady and gents, is _instant_ travel,” Stark patters like a peddler. 

“But we _didn’t_ see anything, not really,” protests the woman in the red suit, the member of the so-called World Security Council ( _Ha!_ _‘_ World Security’ _? These, the defenders of Midgard? What a jest,_ Loki thinks snidely). 

“No problem, it’s all on camera. Feel free to check the time-stamps and compare them against the ones from the cameras inside,” Stark points out smugly, indicating the instruments set up in a circle around the portal. _Ah, so that’s what those are for,_ Loki thinks, for once feeling a _slight_ warmth towards the annoying metal man.

“OK Jarvis, you can shut it down now,” Stark says into a device on his wrist as he pulls off his dark glasses, and a moment later Loki can detect the descending hum of the heart-star powering down. The portal before them all flickers once, twice, then blinks out of existence. Reaching out once more with his magic, Loki can tell that the origin end of the portal has done the same.

“Local field-test completed. All variables within predicted parameters,” the computer’s disembodied voice replies from the device on Stark’s wrist. “Congratulations sir. And to Doctor Foster as well.”

“Thanks Jarvis,” Stark replies, grinning as he hands Jane the little cage. “So,” he continues, ever the showman, “Can I interest anyone in a first-class ticket to outer space, boarding _now_?”

The corner of Fury’s mouth quirks up slightly, though the hard look on his face does not otherwise change. “Not so fast, Mr. Stark.”

Jane looks up, despair settling rapidly over her face as if she predicted this very outcome. “But it worked!” Jane protests loudly, holding up the cage. “How can you-“

Loki flexes his hands in irritation, battling down the urge to reveal himself and berate these moronic creatures for their lack of faith and their reflexive fears. No wonder their kind is still earthbound on this tiny, watery Realm. He supposes it is part and parcel of being mortal and thus prone to death, but why do they not see to it that their short lives mean something? At least his mortal is _trying_ and succeeding.

“Let’s take this inside,” Fury is ordering, sounding weary. No doubt the Director is anticipating a lengthy argument.

Loki instantly resumes his earlier post, and the humans file in gradually and sort themselves out in a telling fashion. Jane and Stark are on one side, with Fury and his retinue on the other, the dark glasses all set aside that the two sides may better scowl at each other.

His poor Jane is nearly shaking from adrenaline and rage, and is the first to attack verbally. “You saw with your own eyes! I mean, you can verify it on the cameras! I don’t see what-“

“Doctor Foster,” Fury interrupts, though his tone is gentle, “I understand your need to see this through. I didn’t say we weren’t going to move forward.”

Jane stops and stares at Fury, her mouth agape. “You mean…”

“Give us a little more time. I want our people to examine ‘Albert’ there-“ Fury gestures to the cage still clutched in Jane’s tense hands, “and make sure he’s suffered no ill effects from his little trip. I also want to consult _my_ experts to check your calculations one final time. But yes, you will get to perform a real, space-crossing test of your portal, and soon.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” interjects another august member of the Council, this time an older Midgardian with graying hair. “Our last encounter with alien life ended with half of  Manhattan in ruins.”

His skepticism is written all over his face and tone, and Loki scowls. Even with the evidence right in front of them-

Jane huffs. “Why did we even bother with all this, if you aren’t even going to let me-“

Stark lays a comforting hand on Jane’s shoulder, while Fury makes a mollifying gesture before turning to address the man. “Not all ‘aliens’ out there are hostile,” Fury reminds the assembled humans. “If you’ll recall, we’ve got an ‘alien’ serving as one of the Avengers. But he won’t be much use to us if we can’t get him here. We’ll be using Doctor Foster’s portal for that purpose, as we’ve become aware recently that Asgard’s wormhole generator is inoperable, and likely to be so for some time.”

“That’s a very convenient reason, except there’s a problem. You obtained the coordinates for Asgard from the war criminal Loki,” points out yet another member of the council, his voice heavy with suspicion. “He already allowed one army through to Earth. How do we know the coordinates he gave us for ‘Asgard’ don’t lead straight to where his newest army is waiting?”

Fury crosses his arms behind his back, unconvinced by this rebuttal. “With all due respect, sir, _we_ control the portal this time. Loki gains nothing by lying to us. If – and that’s a big _if_ \- there’s an army waiting on the other side, all we have to do is hit the OFF button. Correct, Mr. Stark?”

“Damn right. Wouldn’t even need my suit, we’d just slam the door in their ugly alien faces.” 

“The portal test _will_ go ahead,” Fury promises, turning back to Jane. “Just give us a little extra time to do our own verification, Doctor Foster. Considering our generous support of your project-“ he casts his eye around the room, surveying the large pieces of equipment in it, “-I don’t think a few extra days is too much to ask. I will contact you personally when we’re ready.”

There’s a threat implicit in Fury’s words, and once again Loki bristles. Stark too seems ready to mutiny, but Jane sighs and turns to Stark, speaking to him in low tones as Fury turns away to address the throng. 

As the group of humans turns away and walks towards the doors, muttering and arguing amongst themselves, Jane turns back to stare in frustration after Fury. She’s fighting to rein in her tongue, that much is evident to Loki, but the resignation on her face makes it clear that she will wait. She will not risk the failure of her ultimate goal, and even though Loki has always lived for bending and breaking rules, he knows she does not. Scientific rules, yes. SHIELD rules? Unlikely. So she will delay, even as she chafes at it.

Loki will just have to find a way to help her pass the time.

* * *

If Jane thought the waiting was torture before, it’s _nothing_ compared to what she’s enduring now.

At least the thrill of her wormhole generator actually working, even if it was only transporting within a few hundred yards, buoys Jane’s mood. At least for the first few days.

Soon however, that turns to burning anticipation. As a few more days pass, _that_ turns to anxiety. Then to frustration.

“What the _hell_ are they doing?” she grouses to Loki on the mid-afternoon of day nine post-field-test. “Building a time machine so they can go back and ‘consult’ with Einstein?”

Loki smiles calmly as he looks out across Puente Antiguo. They’re on the roof of Jane’s lab, just killing time as they have been doing pretty much every day for the past three weeks. 

She’s finding it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything to do with her portal, directly or indirectly, because that just dials up her frustration once again. But she’s also finding it impossible to concentrate on anything _else_ either, despite Loki’s best efforts in that regard. 

He’s being more than patient with her moods, and Jane is grateful. Having his quiet support does take the edge off, slightly. The same goes for her sessions with Doc Allen over the last few weeks.

“We could always enter the facility in secret and open the way to Asgard ourselves. Whenever you wish,” Loki suggests in a soft voice, and Jane isn’t sure whether he’s being serious or not. He raises his hand, and pale green light crawls around his fingers.

Jane closes her eyes, wishing she had the guts to just do it. _It might even be worth the jail time afterwards!_ She does smile a little, though; Tony had said something similar to her about sneaking in and going to Asgard without SHIELD’s blessing, and it reminds her yet again just how much alike Loki and Tony are in some ways.

“No,” she disagrees with Loki now, shaking her head. “I mean, I’m sure we _could_ – that you could make that happen, that is – but in the long run it would just come back to bite me in the ass.” When she opens her eyes Loki is smirking lewdly back at her, and she grins and jabs him in the ribs with her finger. “That’s _not_ the kind of ass-biting I mean.”

“Pity,” Loki replies, eyes dancing in mirth. 

“What I mean is, SHIELD would never trust me again, and I can’t take the chance that they’ll block my future research. Assuming I have any ‘future’ with this research,” she adds, abruptly glum and discouraged again.

Loki turns to her, frowning. “Why would you believe such a thing, Jane? I am beyond certain they will need your expertise even more urgently, once your Bridge is proven to work. It is not as if Midgard currently possesses any _other_ means of crossing large distances between Realms in a timely fashion.”

“You’re probably right,” she admits, rubbing tiredly at her forehead. “I’m probably just jumping at shadows. Even though I _knew_ it would take time to be approved, I just hate the endless waitin-“

Jane’s cell rings, and she reaches for it automatically, though she doesn’t feel hope until she sees Fury’s name gleaming in tiny white letters on the display.

“It’s Fury,” Jane says to Loki, trying to push aside her spiking anxiety and excitement. _Calm down!_ she scolds herself _. It could be_ bad _news._

“Hello?”

“Doctor Foster,” Fury replies in his usual dry tones that give nothing away. “You’ve been given the green light. Will you be ready to conduct the first interplanetary portal opening tomorrow at eleven-hundred hours?”

Jane’s heart starts thudding faster in her chest. “Y-yes! Yes, Director. I definitely will!”

“Good. I’ll see to it Stark is there on time as well.” With that, Fury disconnects.

Jane stares at the phone for long seconds, the blood pounding in her ears, then she turns slowly to Loki. “We’re on. Tomorrow morning.” Overcome by excitement at last, Jane shrieks out loud, pumping her fists into the air. Loki grins widely and lifts her easily into his arms, whirling her around in circles until she begs him to stop.

She’s breathless when he lets her down. “Oh God, so much to do! I should probably check your coordinates for Asgard again, and verify the calculations for the singularity generator. Oh, and make sure the targeting system- Wait, first I should call Fury back and see if they’ll let me on-site today to prepare-“ Jane wrings her hands, not sure what to do first. 

“No,” Loki says. It’s not loud, but it is commanding, and it startles Jane out of her frantic reverie. “You have done all that already. _Multiple_ times, in fact. As has SHIELD. Today is for celebrating your imminent victory. Tomorrow, in the morning hours, there will be plenty of time to verify everything yet again if you still feel the need.”

“But-“

“No ‘buts’, my Jane,” Loki insists firmly. “Come.” He takes her hand and waves his free hand in a short gesture. White light envelops them, and next Jane finds them in the middle of her bedroom, Loki walking purposefully towards her closet. 

“Loki, what-?”

“Is it true that you only have one set of garments fit for feasting in? Ah, yes, I fondly remember this one,” he remarks, plucking Jane’s only dress out and holding it up. Seeing it, Jane remembers _that_ night, the last time she wore the dress, and a blush warms her cheeks.

He studies it, then hangs it back up before poking through the rest of her closet. Loki obviously doesn’t find anything he thinks is suitable. “That will not do at all,” he scolds. “For such an important event as this, I daresay you require something new.”

Light sears across Jane’s retinas again, but this time it’s just Loki who’s gone, leaving Jane in the centre of her bedroom gaping at empty air. _What the hell is he up to_ now _?_

He’s gone nearly ten minutes, which doesn’t lessen Jane’s curiosity. When he rematerializes at last, he’s not wearing his Asgardian armour. Instead he has on the familiar black suit and white shirt, the black tie, and that scarf Jane has so many pleasant, kinky memories associated with.

Before she can ask, he explains: “I was searching for a venue where we can purchase a worthy garment. Sadly there is nothing which meets my standards in the immediate vicinity, but of course I can rectify that easily.” His smile is carefree as he holds a hand out to her, and Jane smiles in return as she takes it. She wishes she saw Loki more often like this – unguarded, relaxed, _cheerful_.

_ Maybe once all this crap with Thanos is completely over, _ she thinks.

Jane’s prepared for the blinding white light and the tumbling sensation in her stomach as they shift through space. She’s used to that by now. 

What she’s not prepared for is where they end up. They’re on  Fifth Avenue in  New York . Jane turns slowly to Loki with her mouth hanging open. “Are you _crazy_?” she mutters at him in a low voice, though most of the people milling around them pay no attention, in classic New Yorker fashion.

Loki raises an elegant brow, faint amusement in his eyes. 

“You and your army razed half of this city!” Jane whisper-growls. She even has evidence to back her up; turning, she points out to him several hundred construction workers swarming on the upper levels of a nearby high-rise, in the process of fixing some of the damage the Chitauri had caused. “And now you plan to saunter through the city like you weren’t at least _a little_ responsible for it? Besides, what if someone recognizes you?”

“It was not, in fact, _my_ army,” Loki insists, his eyes darkening briefly. “And I attacked the locale only because Stark’s Tower was here. I hoped that by choosing it, I ensured that the Avengers would be alerted, and would arrive just before the portal was opened.” He steps forward to loop his arms lightly around her waist, amusement returning to his expression as he continues, glancing at the people on the sidewalk: “I also doubt many here would recognize me without my helm.”

Jane snorts. “Yeah, that crazy thing is certainly memorable.” She looks around, noting in disbelief all the luxury boutiques in the area. “But…you can’t actually be serious about buying a dress _here_?”

“Why not?” he counters, his tone casual. “Your society thrives on money. Consider it a small gesture on my part to help the city recover from the Chitauri invasion, and one of my gifts to you, on the cusp of your success. I can afford it.”

So saying, and over Jane’s half-hearted protests, he leads her into the nearest store. 

The price tags are enough to make Jane nauseous – over one thousand dollars for a single dress! – but Loki only smiles indulgently.

With an imperiousness that is entirely appropriate for someone who once was a prince, he recruits a small army of saleswomen to wait on them, ignoring Jane’s shy awkwardness as they rush around, bringing dress after dress for her try.

She’s not sure which part of this is most embarrassing to her; Loki sitting on an ornate, upholstered chair with his mile-long legs stretched out in front of him, eyeing her with great interest as she models each of the selected dresses for him, or the saleswomen falling over themselves to tell her how beautifully each one compliments her hair, eyes and skin. 

Jane doesn’t think she’s ever had a boyfriend (if Loki could be classified as that) examine her in such a thorough and admiring way. She thinks her blush may finally have turned permanent after about dress number four.

At last Loki takes pity on her and, smirking, waves the saleswomen away so the two of them can make a final decision in peace.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Jane observes sourly as Loki stands at her side, examining her reflection in the triptych. 

“I have an opportunity to spoil you with beautiful things, so why should I not enjoy it? You should, too. You have _earned_ it with your hard work and perseverance.” Idly, he reaches to trace a finger along the dip in the low back of the dress Jane is currently trying on, and she suppresses a shudder at the promise in his gaze.

_ Please, please, don’t let him decide sex in the changing room is an appropriate way to celebrate _ . She wouldn’t put it past the God of Mischief.

Luckily Loki appears to have other plans. “I adore this one on you,” he admits, walking in a leisurely semicircle behind her to study it further. “Though I may be biased,” he adds, his dimples visible. 

Jane knows what he means. The dress is deep green in colour, a shade very similar to the one incorporated into Loki’s armour. It’s made of a soft, velvety material, cut fairly low in both back and front, and it’s nearly long enough to brush the floor.

It does look good on her, Jane agrees. It brings out the gold in her hair and eyes. “No, I like it too.”

“And yet,” Loki muses out loud, “I am also quite partial to _this_ one.” He points to indicate another dress hanging on the side of the mirror. This dress only came to just above the knee on Jane when she tried it on earlier, and it’s black with a subtle shimmer. The top of the dress is off-the-shoulder, which she knows is always a good look on her.

“Me too,” Jane concurs, smiling. “But I like them both fine. And if you’re buying, it seems to me that you should be the one to decide which dress we get,” she offers. It’s only fair, and it’s not like she has a clear preference between them.

“Feel free to change back into your usual attire while I ponder the matter,” he suggests. 

By the time Jane is done Loki is standing by the front door of the store waiting for her, a fancy bag emblazoned with the shop’s logo slung over his arm. Over in the corner the saleswomen are whispering excitedly among themselves, glancing occasionally over at both her and Loki.

Jane takes his arm as they exit the store. “What was all _that_ about? Don’t tell me you left a pile of gold coins again.”

Loki chuckles. “I have been in your Realm long enough to see the wisdom of possessing some of the local currency.” Jane hopes he traded his Asgardian coins for their money, rather than stealing it, but she doesn’t dare ask.

“So, which dress did you settle on?” Jane questions him instead, trying to peer into the bag. He holds it up out of her reach, grinning mysteriously. “In a moment,” he assures her.

He blips them back to Jane’s apartment, leading her into the bedroom by the hand. She giggles, unable to resist ribbing him just a little. “So, you buy me a fancy new dress _just_ so you can then take it off me right away, and then take me to bed? Wow, you’re efficient.”

Loki laughs, with that gravelly edge on his voice that lights embers deep inside Jane. “While the idea has merit,” he agrees, “I prefer to save _that_ element for later on in our evening.” With a flourish, he reaches into the bag and pulls out the green dress…and then the black one.

Jane’s eyes widen. “Loki! That’s too much! One dress would have been just fine. _More_ than fine-“Jane’s longtime sense of frugality wars with her delight.

“I knew you would say as much. That is _why_ I acquired both,” he explains gleefully. “And now, you will select one to wear, while I see to our dinner arrangements.” He flits out of existence before Jane can say anything else.

_ Holy crap! _ she thinks, gazing wide-eyed at the dresses. She tries not to contemplate what the final bill must have come to. _Loki and his luxury tastes_ , she thinks to herself, shaking her head, though she’s smiling too.

She decides to take a quick shower, and Loki is back by the time she is dried and slipping into the black dress. Jane busies herself brushing out her hair and applying a little makeup, then she slips on her shoes and pauses to admire the overall effect, Loki rising from the couch in the living room, turning off the TV with his magic, and gliding up behind her. 

He runs a slim finger along the length of his necklace at her throat. “These go well together,” he observes, smiling down at her. “I shall be the envy of every man who sees us together this night. And they will not even be cognizant of the _inner_ beauty that is your intellect.”

Jane blushes bright red and smacks him lightly on the arm. “Oh, cut it out.”

“Why deny it?” he counters her, appearing to be completely sincere. “Even in Asgard, the home of gods, none of _them_ have single-handedly built a working Bifröst, I can assure you.”

“I didn’t do it ‘single-handedly’,” Jane points out. 

“With help, then,” he amends, though his expression sours as his words continue. “Still, a feat none currently in Asgard can match. They will rebuild their Bifröst in due time, of course, but they can only manage such because the plans to do so are in Fa- the _All-Father’s_ vault. Take those away, and I doubt even great Heimdall would find success in such an endeavour.”

“But enough of that,” he goes on, smoothing the bitterness from his tone before Jane can comment on it. “This night is for _us_.”

He doesn’t even let Jane take a coat or her purse, just whisks them away as abruptly as before. When Jane’s vision clears this time, they’re back in an urban area, from what she can tell, and in front of them is a building with strangely blacked-out windows. _Opaque_ , says the sign over the awning.

Jane frowns. The name sounds familiar, but… “Where are we?”

“Oh, back in your city of  New York . I spent considerable time familiarizing myself with this city while awaiting the end of your work-day, back when your laboratory was based in Stark’s Tower. In the course of my explorations I discovered many…interesting places.”

She takes his outstretched hand, her curiosity increasing as she follows him into the restaurant. 

The room just inside the front door is dimly lit, and furnished with heavy wooden furniture upholstered in black velvet. A smiling woman welcomes them, and it takes Jane a second or two to realize that the hostess is blind.

Another attendant, this one sighted, takes Loki’s overcoat and presents them with a menu as they settle on a large chaise lounge. Loki insists on choosing the meal for them both, which both relieves and annoys Jane. The line between chivalry and chauvinism can be all too thin with him sometimes.

Jane can’t see into the restaurant proper, because there are heavy black curtains over the three doorways into the room, but she can hear the sounds of people talking and of cutlery on plates coming from the two doorways they didn’t enter from.

“What kind of place _is_ this?” she asks at last.

“You are about to find out, little one,” Loki answers enigmatically, as a third person pushes aside one of the curtains. “Mr. Lokisson?”

Loki holds the curtain aside for Jane, and she gets enough of a glimpse to see they’re in a very short hallway, with another heavy black curtain covering the other side, before Loki lets the first curtain drop behind them leaving them in total darkness. He takes her hand, squeezing it gently, leading her forward.

She steps gingerly, feeling her way. The second curtain brushes her arm as they pass through it, and Loki leads her unerringly forward. They’re in the actual restaurant itself now, she can tell by the noise around them, but she can’t see a damned thing. 

Loki guides her gently to a stop, and then there’s the scraping noise of a chair being pulled out. Jane follows Loki’s guidance to help sit down. Their waiter gives them some tips for eating in the dark, such as how not to knock over their wineglasses, and then he leaves.

Jane gropes cautiously for Loki’s hand. “We’re supposed to eat in total blackness?” she asks incredulously. She blinks several times, but there’s no light at all to see by, even a little.

Loki’s reply is unconcerned. “I believe they call it ‘Dining in the Dark’. The servants lack sight naturally, and the feasters due to the complete darkness created in this room.”

Jane chuckles uncomfortably. “I’ll say! Whatever possessed you to think of doing this for our celebration?”

“Why not?” Loki says, and Jane can imagine his nonchalant shrug clearly in her mind. “Besides,” he continues, his voice sliding into that purr that makes Jane want to shift in her seat, “I believe it will be a good experience for you, to learn to rely on your other senses. Hearing, taste, scent and… _touch_.” Some part of him, which she strongly hopes is his hand, brushes lightly against her cheek, butterfly-soft and quick.

_ Oh God, I’m in for it now, _ she thinks. She had enough trouble maintaining her personal space around him the last time he took her out for a fancy dinner…and this time nobody can see them even without his illusions. _This is going to be like dangling a steak in front of a ravenous wolf._

Footsteps approach their table. “I believe you requested champagne, Mr. Lokisson?”

“Yes,” Loki answers, and soon they hear the pop of the cork, and the splash of the liquid into the glasses. Jane hopes she doesn’t spill anything, but she waits until the waiter leaves to slide her hand slowly and carefully across the tablecloth, just in case.

“Champagne?” she asks, smiling though she knows he can’t see it _. Unless he’s cheating with his magic, which he probably_ is.

“Is that libation not customary on Midgard for celebrating?”

“Oh, it is. Though for situations like this, we usually drink it only _after_ succeeding at our goal. I’m pretty sure Tony has a fridge full of the stuff hidden somewhere in the lab to pull out after tomorrow’s test.” Too late she remembers that Loki can’t be there, and so won’t actually be able to celebrate with her. She braces herself for his bitterness, not that she doesn’t agree with his feelings.

“I have every expectation that you _will_ succeed,” he assures her calmly. His fingers slip gracefully around hers on the stem of her glass, and Jane starts and nearly drops the whole thing, but he steadies her easily. She hears and feels the quiet ting of his glass tapping hers. “To your approaching victory,” Loki toasts.

“Thanks.” Jane smiles as she brings the glass carefully to her lips. Loki does have a point; she does find the taste of the champagne and the tickle of the tiny bubbles on her upper lip _is_ enhanced.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I only have a glass or two, though,” she warns, “the last thing I need tomorrow is a hangover.”

She can practically _hear_ the smile in his voice as he answers: “Understandable. No matter, I will be pleased to drink whatever you will not. Your Midgardian beverages have little effect on my constitution.” His hand, large and warm, squeezes hers gently.

Jane chuckles and takes another sip, then gasps at the realization: “Wait a minute – why did we bother dressing up so fancy? We can’t even see each other, so isn’t it kind of…pointless?”

His low laugh makes Jane want to squirm in her seat. “A temporary situation, my dear. I fully intend to view more of you after we dine. _Much_ more.” 

_ There he goes with that damned bedroom voice again _ . It’s really unfair how he has that power, at least in her opinion.  

_ Among his other powers.  _ She can no longer resist the urge to call him out: “Are you _cheating,_ Loki? I’m sure seeing in the dark would be nothing for a master of magic.” 

Loki laughs more loudly this time. “Clever little one. I _could,_ it is true. But I am not. You may trust me on that. I too, sometimes desire to lose one sense in order to augment the others.” He allows her to ponder the implications of that as he raises her hand, to press warm lips to the backs of her fingers, and Jane shivers in her seat.

She’s half relieved and half disappointed when they are interrupted by the waiter approaching with the appetizer. “What is it?” she asks him as the plate is placed in front of her with a soft thunk.

“Sorry Miss, but Mr. Lokisson asked me not to tell you,” the waiter answers, and in her mind’s eye Jane imagines him winking at her.

“Would it not be more fun to guess?” Loki inquires as the waiter walks away.

“I guess,” Jane concedes, fumbling for her fork. Then she touches the plate and realizes it’s not a plate but a bowl. Cautiously, she slips a finger down the inside of the bowl until she touches cold liquid. A cold soup?

Eating soup in the dark is definitely a challenge, especially making sure she eats all of it. But at least she guesses correctly; a gazpacho.

Next comes a salad, which is easy to guess but even harder to eat than the soup was. She has to feel with her fingers to make sure she eats everything, and she’s pretty sure there’s lettuce leaves fallen on the table, ever after she checks twice – carefully – with her hands. But she does appreciate the tang of the dressing, and Loki sees no problem at all with Jane using her fingers from time-to-time. Apparently that’s not a faux pas in Asgard. Considering Thor’s table manners when he first fell to Earth, Jane supposes she shouldn’t be surprised. She could probably pick up a whole chicken leg in her hands and tear at it with her teeth, and Loki would barely react.

As Loki implied earlier would happen, Jane feels hyperaware of everything else around her, of all the information coming from her other senses. The clink of cutlery and the soft conversations going on in the room around them. The footfalls of the wait-staff moving from table to table. The scents of the food from other tables, and the faint musk of leather that hovers around Loki no matter what he seems to be wearing. The brush of his sleeve against Jane’s bare arm, the tickle of his hair on her shoulder as he leans into her to kiss the side of her neck at one point. She shivers again and he snickers against her flesh though he doesn’t push things. Yet.

When their main course arrives Jane has little trouble identifying the sides – roast potatoes and green beans – but the meat is in pieces and much more of a challenge. She chews a bit and guesses pork, but it turns out to be beef. Her error amuses Loki, who then claims that for her mistake, she owes him a kiss. Jane is happy to oblige, though of course a second later there’s his hand, slipping up under the hem of her dress and coming to rest on her thigh, and just as predictably she gasps against his mouth.

_ Here we go, _ she thinks, sighing inwardly. Jane just _knew_ this was coming, exhibitionist that Loki is.

But as he breaks off the kiss to sit back in his chair, his hand stays put. It’s very warm and her skin under each of his individual fingers feels tingly at his touch, but other than his thumb stroking her leg almost idly, he does nothing else. 

It’s still all Jane can do not to writhe in her seat.

His hand remains on her leg as he asks her what other places she might go, other than Asgard, once her portal is proven. It’s still there as he tells her a little about the other ‘Nine Realms’. If he’s noticing the effect he’s having on her, he’s choosing to play dumb.

The only predictable thing about him, Jane quickly concludes, is that he is _unpredictable_.

Finally the dessert course is served. Loki apparently ordered a different one for each of them, as Jane discovers when he asks her to open her mouth, and he slips his finger between her lips. She sucks and tastes chocolate mousse, and the slight salt tang of his skin. Delicious, though Loki’s serving method makes her blush even in the concealing darkness. Well, blush more than she already is.

She shares her berry shortcake in a Mason jar with him, though she feels very awkward and slightly embarrassed to be using her fingers to feed him, even if nobody else would know. 

But she’d feel worse if she stabbed him in the cheek with her fork, even if such a thing would probably barely affect him. He suckles the berry juice from her finger with suggestive gusto, and Jane sets her teeth to block a moan. Loki’s hand (yes, it’s there still) shifts just a fraction higher on her thigh, and she has to bite down into her lower lip. She’s not sure when it started, but there’s a slow-banked heat rising within her, and she wonders just how high Loki intends to stoke it before they’re done here.

She checks the bottom of the jar with her fingers to make sure she got every last morsel, savoring the last bite of the berry compote and the shortcake, then she wipes her fingers and takes a last careful sip of water. 

Jane discovers a leaf from their earlier salad in her lap, but otherwise the damage was minimal. Not bad for someone who is clumsy by nature. And that’s in normal, _lit_ situations!

Loki’s hand falls away from her leg at last, and her skin immediately misses the heat of him. There’s a rustle and Loki lays something gently across her hands. Curious, Jane explores it – soft, a long length of cloth, and her fingers quickly identify fringe at the ends. His scarf. _That_ scarf. Heat scalds her cheeks, and she wonders if Loki is going for some kind of record in terms of making her blush tonight.

“It seems to me that we ought to continue the theme of the evening for a while longer,” Loki suggests in _that_ low rough-edged tone. “I will send you back to your abode now. Do not worry, the mortals are not watching with their ‘cameras’, and they will not mark my use of magic. I will come to you once I have settled matters here.”

“OK,” Jane agrees, her fingers already shaking in anticipation, but Loki isn’t finished yet.

“Your instructions are to blindfold yourself with my scarf, and wait on your hands and knees on the bed for me. You may remove your footwear, but otherwise, do not disrobe. I will attend to that, when it suits me.” 

The wolfish growl with which he issues his instructions turns Jane hot and cold all over and she’s soaking into her panties already, wondering what delicious evils he has planned for her. “Uh, O-OK. Yes.”

He chuckles in _that_ way, wickedly, and just like that everything goes from pitch-black to eye-searing white, and Jane opens her eyes to discover herself sitting in her living room holding Loki’s scarf bunched in her hands.

The lights are all off, but it’s still bright compared to the room she was just sitting in. Jane wastes no time, peeling off her shoes as she makes her way to the bedroom. She has no idea how long it’ll take Loki to get here, but she doesn’t want to keep him (or herself) waiting.

She does take a few seconds to quickly make the rumpled bed however, before climbing up onto it. Quickly she sits back on her heels and binds Loki’s scarf around her eyes, until it’s snug but comfortable. She leans forward onto her hands, waiting on all fours as he requested.

She waits.

As before, everything else is magnified. At first every little noise makes her twitch. There’s the soft, distant sounds of water in pipes and car horns outside, the sigh of wind around the corners of her building. She can taste the sweet residue of the dessert still on her tongue, and somehow that leathery musk she associates with Loki is here with her. The scent must be clinging to his scarf.

She wonders if she is half-imagining the mild drafts in the room brushing against the naked skin of her arms and lower legs, the tickle of them on the bare soles of her feet. Maybe she’s just hyper-aware of it, given her present situation. Or is Loki already here, teasing her subtly with these sensations as he watches? Jane can easily picture the glee in his eyes.

Then there’s a tiny, barely perceptible change in air pressure in the room, and Jane knows for sure that he’s here.

He crosses the room at a measured pace and Jane shivers in anticipation, not bothering to hide it this time. His languid steps come to a stop behind her, at the foot of the bed. “Beautiful,” he declares. “Not just your form, as we have well-established, but also in your willing submission to me. My sweet Jane.”

As always, Jane feels like she doesn’t know quite what to say to that, so she makes a little joke. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

His quick laugh ripples through the room. “Oh, I can be _very_ bad. I think we both know that. Fortunately, that is what you both desire and need, is it not?” His voice is now a rough whisper, and Jane presses her thighs together as she attempts not to moan in reply.

There’s silence, and Jane realizes he’s waiting for her agreement. “Yes,” she admits softly. “I need _you_.” It’s somehow easier to admit to it when she can’t see him. 

A rustling comes to her ears, and Jane strains to figure out what he’s doing. Undressing himself?

After a short time that still manages to feel like an eternity, the mattress dips under his weight and he positions himself beside her.

His breath warms the shell of her ear before he presses a kiss to the side of her neck. He lingers, allowing her to feel the weight of his breath, before his tongue darts out to taste her skin. Jane squeezes the bed-sheets between her fingers and wriggles, a soft sound falling from her mouth. When he moves away her skin cools, prickles going down her spine.

Before she can miss him, slender, strong fingers are sliding over the back of her head, just under the knot of the scarf, and he draws her towards him for a deep, wet kiss, his tongue taking possession of her mouth and silencing her.

Hot skin brushes her arm as he moves back again, and gooseflesh rises all along her body. Perceptive as Loki is, he catches even that minute reaction. “So receptive already, and I’ve barely begun with you,” he snickers in her ear. His fingernails track across her bared shoulders, not hard enough to leave marks, but enough to coax another shudder from her.

“And you’re such a tease,” Jane gasps, though she knows how useless it is to engage in verbal chess with him. He hasn’t even stripped her yet, and she’s already slick and ready for him, her nipples pushing hard against her strapless bra and begging to be freed and played with.

He titters, breath caressing her cheek. “Do you think so, my vixen? I think you have little idea just how much of a tease I can be. Though I am all too willing to educate you further on that matter.” As threats go, Jane reflects, it’s thrilling and tension-inducing at the same time.

She can’t think of a good rejoinder, and even if there is, it’s hard to come up with one when he’s working to distract her. His teeth are grazing her earlobe, and another part of him is rubbing against one of her taut nipples through her bra and dress.

Shaking her head to clear it, Jane decides to state the obvious. “I think you’re going to do whatever you want.”

His chortle is as dark and delighted as she predicts. “Indeed. And you’re going to enjoy every moment, Jane Foster,” he vows, one hand curving around her chin to hold her head still as his lips move against her ear. Finally, his other hand settles purposefully on her back, and she feels him start to tug down the zipper of her dress.

She knows to expect the unexpected, as cliché as that is, but even given what she knows of him, she still squeals and jumps in an entirely undignified way when two _more_ hands close over her ankles. Loki snickers again, pulling Jane back into position as the new hands slide firmly up her legs to brush the tender backs of her knees.

It’s another _him,_ of that Jane is one-hundred-percent sure, but she still trembles all the way to her core. Rendered blind, her sense of touch is already heightened, and now he’s gone and doubled everything.

“Pretty as your new dress is, myself and I don’t see much use for it now,” he whispers in her ear, nipping gently at the rim. Another cool pulse of air tickles along the knobs of her spine as he lowers the zipper tiny tooth by tiny tooth. 

The newer Loki pushes the skirt of the dress higher up her thighs, his pace just as leisurely, and another wave of gooseflesh coats Jane’s body. That second Loki kisses the back of her right leg, on his way to moving to run a wet, sinuous tongue along the edge of her underwear, and Jane squeaks and writhes.

This yields another laugh from the original Loki as he reaches the bottom of the zipper. “I never tire of listening to the symphony of sounds you make in your pleasure,” he remarks. His hands run like warm water up her back, stroking her skin as he pushes the sides of her dress down and away. 

Two pairs of hands grip and guide Jane, maneuvering her so they can work the short sleeves off her arms. They don’t remove the dress completely, rather for reasons known only to them they leave it bunched around her hips. They coax her back to her hands and knees once again, and something about this, about being dressed and undressed at the same time, makes her feel even more exposed. 

As if sensing her thoughts, the first Loki’s hand finds her nipple, tweaking it through the lace of her bra, then tracing the ring of areola in tantalizing circles. But the second Loki isn’t taking any breaks; he licks her again, his tongue broad and moist along the damp crotch of her panties, the sweet pressure driving Jane to arch her back, pressing back into him, a moan vibrating in her throat.

Twin chuckles greet this reaction, though they don’t give up any control over her. Powerful hands grip her hips, holding her still as the first Loki‘s mouth traces a burning line down the side of her neck and shoulder, his fingers leaving her nipple to graze along the neckline of her bra.

The second Loki laps between her legs again, over and over, leaving the lace sodden, though his touch remains far too light. Jane grinds her teeth and groans in sheer frustration, her hips flexing helplessly against the unyielding grip. She’s not tied up, but she may as well be. Loki is too physically powerful when there’s just one of him to contend with, and now she has to submit to _two_ of him.

She remembers finally what she can do to encourage them, if not through her movements. She licks her dry lips and says huskily. “Please, Loki.”

“Please _what_ , little minx?” Loki breathes in her ear. “Is there something you require of us? Pray tell us what it is.”

Blood rises in her cheeks as she tries to delay the inevitable. “I need you to…” she pauses to swallow, “touch me.”

Loki’s tone is confused with a hint of mirth. “But are we _not_ touching you, Jane? Do you not feel this?” Fingertips roll her nipple, still covered by its net of lace, and the other Loki’s tongue draws a lazy, wide circle around the hard knot of her clit. Jane digs her nails into the bedspread, holding back a curse as her irritation spikes. She should have known.

“I’d feel it _better_ ,” she snaps, “without my underwear still on!” _That was a mistake_ , she chides herself right after speaking. He’s probably going to torture her even longer for speaking to him like that.

But he must be feeling generous tonight. “Of course, my dear,” he responds with mock innocence. “You only needed to ask.” Deftly he eases the cups of her bra down, urging the lush flesh and aching tips free, though he does not remove the bra. Similarly, Jane trembles as the Loki behind her pulls the crotch of the panties aside, spreading her legs wider with a firm tug on her knee. She notes again that there’s something about being half-dressed that turns her on even more than she already is.

It’s impossible to stifle her gratified moan when the first Loki cups her breasts, thumbs toying with her nipples, and the other Loki slithers his tongue right into her heat in a hard push. “Is that better?” Loki murmurs in her ear, and Jane can only nod and clutch at the bed-sheets again.

Sweat begins to bead at her hairline and along her back as the sweet torture continues for long minutes. Lost in her personal darkness under the scarf, every touch, no matter how light, sears through her. It builds gradually, driving mercilessly through her.

_ Oh God, _ she’s so close now, their touches just perfect. The first Loki is playing with her nipples, tugging and gently twisting, the other Loki licking deep inside her, occasionally brushing her aching clit. Jane quakes, her body stiffening, and just like that she’s on the verge of a powerful orgasm.

He – they - must sense it because that’s when they both withdraw, leaving Jane shivering and panting harshly. “No! P-please,” she stutters again. He loves it when she begs, if she knows nothing else for certain about him, at least she’s sure of that, and if she begs, he and his double will take pity on her and let her come, _please, God_.

“Have no fear, we are not anywhere near finished with you,” comes the reassuring answer, and he moves to kiss the tender spot just behind her ear. “But my ally and I can no longer resist your charms. We _ache_ to be inside you. Does that seem a reasonable request, my dear Jane?”

Both _of you at the same time?_ she wants to protest as part of her balks. She’s never done that before, never been taken simultaneously by two men. Not even the last time she was at the mercy of two Lokis. But even inexperienced as she is, she’s not naïve; she knows there are many ways they could both have her at once…but not all of which does she think she’s ready for. Jane also knows if she protests, what the answer will be. To trust him. 

She does. She’s certain of that, too. So she may as well skip to the end.

“Yes,” she agrees, though her voice shakes slightly despite her resolve. 

Another soft kiss presses warm behind her ear. “Fear not, little one. We have no intention of neglecting _your_ pleasure.”

Jane wonders what that means, but there’s no answer forthcoming. She waits, focusing on touch and sound to tell her what’s happening around her. The first Loki moves around in front of her, his skin brushing against her in brief little skin-to-skin kisses as he arranges himself and her. The second Loki remains at the foot of the bed, between her legs. As soon as the Loki in front of her stops moving, something hot, slick and throbbing presses against the entrance to her body. The second Loki’s hands reach under her bunched-up dress to lock on her hips, pulling her back onto him slowly, sheathing himself inside her. 

The suddenness of it draws a sharp cry from Jane, along with the automatic worry – _condom?_ – but a moment later she dismisses it. She doubts an illusion, no matter how real it feels (and oh, does it ever), would be capable of impregnating her. She doesn’t think Loki is capable of betraying her trust in that area either.

His pace is lazy, unhurried, massaging every inch inside of her as he works in and out. Jane pants, pushing back against him, her knees and elbows weak and wanting to buckle. The first Loki’s hands slip under her shoulders, holding her up, keeping her steady.

Something soft and hard at the same time touches her lips, and Jane moans and opens her mouth, accepting him inside before he can ask. It pleases her to hear _him_ making noise now, quiet grunts and groans, as she enjoying all the other sensations as well.

The slight salt tang of his skin, the scent of him…she revels in all of it, savouring his pleasure as thoroughly as he does hers. Though she wishes she could see his face, she can picture it easily enough, based on their history: his mouth half open, his pupils dilated so much that his eyes look black, and his gaze locked hungrily on her, devouring every movement of her lips and tongue.

It feels so very good, but it’s also distracting, trying to focus on two things at once like this. She wishes the second Loki would glide his hand around her hip and stroke her swollen clit, just a little…it won’t take much to make her climax, _hard_. 

Again, he seems to be reading her mind. “Such diligence,” Loki rasps, and she can tell he’s speaking through gritted teeth as he battles for control, “shall be rewarded.” 

She has no idea what he means, until the bed dips again, and a _third_ pair of long-fingered hands slides over her hot, sensitized skin. She yelps around Loki’s shaft, though some small part of her is completely unsurprised, and he laughs good-naturedly.

“Relax, Jane,” he murmurs comfortingly as she freezes, uncertain. “We only require that you surrender to the pleasure we will give you.”

There’s that moment once more – trust him or not – and again she takes the plunge. She can’t answer verbally that easily, so she thrusts her hips back against the second Loki, sliding him deeper inside her, and allows her tongue to swirl around the slick head of the first Loki’s shaft. They both groan, their hands clutching at her hips and her shoulders, and Jane smiles at the recognition of the power _she_ has in this little scenario.

The third body – another Loki, of course – is wriggling himself underneath her, trailing kisses on an aimless path up and across her ribs as he goes. A gentle nip graces one nipple, and Jane gasps, the sound muffled by Loki’s cock, though that’s nothing compared to the squeal she utters when the newest Loki’s hand finds its way between her legs, and moves to pull the coarse lace of her almost-forgotten panties tight across her nub. She’s tempted to curse but those clever fingers sweep the material aside again just as quickly, switching to caressing and rubbing.

It becomes a race to see if she can bring one of the first two Lokis to orgasm before she does. She pushes back harder and a little faster against the Loki behind her. She moves her mouth faster too, then drags her teeth lightly across the sensitive area at the base of the head. That’s enough to make the original Loki grit out unfamiliar words, his whole length tightening, turning even harder between her lips, and she’s sure any second-

But they aren’t going to let her win, not even in this. Even as the first Loki somehow regains control over himself, the Loki behind her thrusts more roughly, shifting angle to hit new spots within her, and the third Loki suckles hard on her breast and presses her nub tight between his fingers.

_ Oh G-  _ All her muscles tense, pulling tighter and tighter, and even with her eyes closed coloured lights seem to explode across her vision. With a bone-wrenching shudder and a half-muffled scream, Jane’s orgasm claims her, and even then they don’t stop, thrusting and kneading and working her hard until she’s drenched in sweat and sagging, rainbow lights still spinning circles on the backs of her eyelids as she feels the Loki behind her pulling out.

She released Loki from her mouth at some point in the festivities, she’s not sure when. She stretches forward, clumsily trying to locate him, wanting to resume pleasuring him somehow, even if she feels like she can barely hold her current position.

The mattress shifts under her hands and knees and Jane collapses slowly down onto it. There’s no Loki lying under her any longer, and when the Loki in front of her unknots the blindfold and slips it off, Jane realizes it’s just him in the bed with her now.

Jane clears her throat several times, trying to get her muscles coordinated enough to reach for him. “Here, I didn’t finish-“

“No,” he contradicts her, voice as hoarse as hers. “I want to have you _this_ way-”

Instantly Jane is on the bottom on her back, Loki hovering over her as he pulls a condom from a fold in the air, rolling it onto himself with a practiced ease he didn’t have in the beginning of their relationship. The realization makes Jane grin.

He’s impatient now, yanking her damp dress the rest of the way off her hips and down her legs, and then his fingers catch in her panties and tear them apart like tissue paper. Her bra is last to go, before he leans over her, eyes blazing.

“You have little idea,” he breathes against her lips, “what it does to me, to watch you, to hear your cries of fulfillment. Do you?” His rough thrust and rougher kiss removes any ability Jane has to muster a coherent answer to that.

She clutches at his arms, digging her nails into him to anchor herself as he changes angle, drawing another cry of delight from her. 

“Tell me, Jane, who you belong to,” he growls. The intensity of his gaze makes her want to look away, but she doesn’t.

“You,” she moans, wrapping her legs tighter around him. 

His head dips, his teeth pricking her throat above the necklace. “I cannot hear you, Jane,” he hisses, breathing in hot darts against her flesh.

“You!” Jane answers louder, more gasp than word as Loki changes angle again, hitting a spot that sends shocks speeding through her. He’s the musician and she the instrument, and he knows intimately how to _play_ her.

He looms over her, pinning her wrists to the bed and nipping the edge of her jaw, the force of hips nearly bruising. “That is not my name,” he growls.

“Loki!” Jane answers without hesitation, and his reward is also immediate; his hand shoves between them to knead her clit.

It’s rough and hard and fast and perfect, his breathing turning into ragged groans in her ear as he thrusts one last time, a stab of pure pleasure, and spills into her. She can feel each individual pulse, stroking her inner walls, and after a moment he rubs harder on her nub, towing her after him into another toe-curling climax.

Her mind is blissfully hazy for a very long time, his weight and warmth heavy on her. _I’ll sleep just fine tonight,_ she thinks with a grin.

Loki shifts himself off her, granting her an almost chaste kiss on the lips. “A fitting celebration?” he asks, smirking. 

“Definitely,” Jane purrs, stretching. He watches her, then looks over at the shredded remains of her panties. “My apologies,” he says, though the gleam in his eye tells Jane he isn’t sorry at all. Not one bit.

Jane shakes her head. “For a ‘Liesmith’, you suck pretty bad at it sometimes,” she teases. “Doesn’t matter – when my portal works tomorrow, you can buy me some new ones. On Asgard.” Excitement at the thought stirs inside her.

He smiles, though Jane knows him well enough to sense the guardedness hidden behind it. Which is understandable, given how many of his insecurities stem from that place. “An excellent suggestion. Though I am sure you will look breath-taking in Asgardian garments, we shall be in a position to test the truth of that soon enough.”

Jane leans to kiss him, then sluggishly cleans herself and him up and prepares for bed, tucking herself into Loki’s welcoming arms.

For a little while she’s not sure if she’ll sleep after all. She tries to breathe deeply, to relax, but then she finds herself thinking again about tomorrow, and her heart begins to race. _So close, only hours away now. Oh God…_

Then Loki changes position slightly, humming softly in her ear. The tune is unfamiliar, maybe something Asgardian, but the strange scale structure fascinates her distracted mind, and it’s very warm under the covers with him, and her muscles are like jelly after their bedroom antics, and-

When she opens her eyes again, morning light is filtering through the windows.

Today is the day.

* * *

“Is of all this really necessary?” Jane protests to Fury in pure exasperation, motioning with her hand to indicate the entire lab.

If Jane thought the numbers of SHIELD agents were overkill before, that turns out to be _nothing_ compared to today.

SHIELD personnel in combat gear literally line the walls (Jane’s overheard them being called a ‘strike team’, and they do seem poised to strike at a second’s notice). Coulson stands near the Director, talking into his headset every few minutes, his expression all business. 

Jane was startled at first to see Agent Romanoff standing next to the members of the World Security Council, dressed in a black cat-suit that looks completely impractical for fighting in Jane’s unprofessional opinion. Jane’s also pretty sure she saw Agent Barton earlier too, though he’s nowhere to be seen right now.

Tony is the only person in the entire complex who seems totally calm, as if this is nothing new to him. As if interplanetary travel via man-made wormhole is something he attempts every day. Jane wonders more than once if his nonchalance is for her benefit.

Jane studies the throng in the room yet again as she waits for Fury’s answer. _Half of the Avengers Initiative is here_ , the realization dawns on her. _And if the portal works, Thor will probably be standing in this lab shortly, too. Then only Dr. Banner and Captain Rogers will be missing._

She’s not sure how she feels about any of that. Is her work really this dangerous?

“Better safe than sorry, Doctor Foster,” Fury answers, as if reading her thoughts. 

Jane shakes her head to dispel her doubts, and raises a brow. “I’m pretty sure Asgard is not looking to invade us.”

Fury folds his arms behind his back, looking down at her disapprovingly. “With all due respect for your efforts, you’re assuming that’s where the other end of this thing will wind up.”

“My calculations _are_ correct,” Jane counters, too annoyed to be intimidated by him. Besides, she’s been intimidated by the _best_. ‘I’ve double- and quadruple-checked them, your own experts have checked them-“

“When you open that wormhole generator and Thor steps through – or some other friendly – then you have my permission to say ‘I told you so’, Doctor. Until then, however…” Fury’s eye glints coldly down at Jane.

_ Oh ye of little faith, _ Jane wants to retort, but Tony calls her away.

“Don’t mind him,” Tony assures Jane, waving dismissively over at Fury. “He was _born_ paranoid. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s a job requirement.”

Jane sighs and picks up her clipboard to check the read-outs for the arc-reactor and the pulse generator, running her index finger down the neat columns of numbers. 

_ I wish Erik was here,  _ she thinks with a sudden pang which feels not unlike homesickness.

Not just for the intellectual support, but also the moral support. Tony is trying his best, but Erik knows all of Jane’s ‘negative self-talk’ (as Doc Allen would call it) backwards and forwards, and what to say to ease her doubts after so many years of dealing with it.

_ I wish Loki was here, too. He and Tony could distract me by insulting each other. _ The thought causes Jane to smile, though she covers it with the clipboard. It even somehow strikes her as funny to picture how Fury, the Council, and the rest of SHIELD would to react if the ‘war-criminal’ himself was standing in the middle of the room right now. Jane can just picture his amused little smirk as he swaggers across the floor. Best for that to remain hypothetical, though-

“Board is green,” Tony says, breaking into Jane’s thoughts. “Reactor is primed. How’s everything look on your end, Jane?”

Jane quickly walks down the line of devices, checking each read-out even if she has to bend around sweating, nervous techs to do it. “Everything’s in the usual range. Just like the field test. Nothing anomalous.” She takes a deep breath as her insides quake in anticipation. _This is it; it’s about to happen._ “I’m ready when you are.”

Tony beams and claps Jane on the back hard enough to make her shoulder sting and drive her forward half a step, but it does ground her somehow.

“Well?” Tony raises his voice and looks pointedly towards Fury and the rest of their audience. Coulson is the only one smiling back, Jane notices, and she’s sure she only knows that because she’s become so accustomed to the subtleties of his expressions by now.

Fury lets a beat or two pass, his brow furrowed, then he nods slowly. “Go ahead.”

“Want to do the honours?” Tony is asking her, and Jane’s pulse jumps again as she nods gratefully at him. She reaches to flip the switch that causes the reactor to increase its baseline power output.

“Jarvis,” Tony commands, his voice just maybe slightly more theatrical than it needs to be, “begin the first interplanetary bridge. Start reactor and run it up to 100% power.”

Jane barely hears Jarvis’ calm voice agreeing, she’s so busy trying to watch all her screens at once. Part of her – that usual negative little voice – is sure that something is going to go wrong. Something is going to stop her from achieving her goal. 

But nothing does. The arc-reactor cycles up the energy until it’s so bright Jane has to reach for the protective glasses she forgot to slip on earlier. “Energy output stable at max power,” Jarvis confirms.

“Everything’s good on my end,” Tony says, still casual. Jane envies him, as she squeezes her shaking hand into a fist. She turns to stare at the green button. Everything is hanging on this. Her life’s work, narrowed down to this moment and that button.

_ Now or never.   _

She doesn’t have Tony’s or Loki’s way with words, so instead of a grand pronouncement she just says: “OK, here we go!” and pushes the button, stepping back to watch the energy transfer begin.

Jane’s machines – the pulse generator, the gravimetric stabilizer, the energy centrifuge, the pulse generator, the singularity generator, targeting computer – all go into overdrive, spitting out their reams of numbers, some of them showing graphs so Jane can quickly spot anything red-lining (which she more than half-expects).

Again, everything is green.

_ It’s working, _ she thinks, heart thundering in her ears.

_ It’s working _ – the energy begins to spool out of the reactor and down the cables, crawling towards the platform and the circular frame – _it’s working_ – the light, almost too blinding to look at even with her protective glasses, bleeds around the circle and then meets itself, coming together – _it’s working!_ – the ground is vibrating beneath her feet now, subtly, slightly, and her lucky pen rolls off one of the panels and falls to the floor, and the hum of the energies is quickly rising to a point where she can barely hear anything else – _it’s working!_ – and then there’s a shift, Jane can feel it under her feet, can see it in the light dancing in front of her within the cage of the circle, can feel it in the hairs rising along her arms – _IT WORKED!_

There it is, brighter than during the field-test, but otherwise much the same, a tall circle of pale blue-white light, trails of steam rising from the surface to brush against the high ceiling.

It’s impossible to see what’s on the other side of the portal; between the steam and the swirling light and her dark glasses, Jane can’t make out anything through it. But it should be Asgard. It has to be.

Well, only one way to find out, she thinks, taking a step towards the ramp that leads up to the portal.

Behind Jane their audience is muttering. She tries not to pay attention to the strike team shifting their holds on their weapons as she takes another two steps forward, though nobody is aiming at anything yet.

This is not in her wildest dreams how Jane pictured her first real portal opening going. A lot fewer _guns_ , for one thing.

The butterflies in her stomach spin frantically as Jane takes her first step up the ramp. Tony is right behind her, she knows. They agreed in advance that Jane would go first, then him. With a little luck, her coordinates will put them right on the Asbru Bridge that Thor and Loki have told her about, and Thor will be there to greet them. Or Heimdall will be there, expecting them despite the fact Jane has had no way to warn them that she was coming. She remembers someone, though she can’t remember just now if it was Thor or Loki, telling her that Heimdall literally sees _everything_. So hopefully this won’t be an unpleasant surprise to anyone on the other end.

Jane makes it to the top of the ramp without anyone from SHIELD trying to stop her, which itself is nearly a miracle in her opinion. _Two more steps,_ she thinks, a broad smile on her face. She resists the urge to put her hand up to shield her eyes from the intense light, as the glasses aren’t helping as much as she hoped, but she wants to see as much as possible when she steps into the wormhole-

A tall shadow materializes in front of her.

It blocks some of the light in front of her and Jane squints, trying to refocus her eyes. At first she thinks it’s someone from the other side, as they seem to be wearing Asgardian armour. Then the shock and surprise registers as she recognizes who it is.

Loki.

* * *

It has become a new habit of Loki’s, ever since Jane’s worst nightmares ended, to use a sleep spell on her to ensure she always takes the rest she needs. It’s a mild version of the spell, considerably less powerful than the one he used on the SHIELD warriors when he went to claim Jane from their poorly-defended dungeons. 

Humans, in his view, are poorly designed. Too often when Jane _requires_ sleep, she is too anxious or excited to achieve it. So Loki sees little error in using his magic to aid her in this instance, though once again he suspects that if he mentions to her what he has been doing, she will regard it with the same dim view he assumes she would greet the knowledge of his espionage.

Loki feels no guilt from hiding these things from her.  

After their pleasurable dinner and bed-games last night, he employs a somewhat stronger version of the sleep-spell on Jane, so he can magick himself to her lab and verify matters for himself without disturbing her slumbers.

As far as he can tell, given his limited knowledge of Midgardian science, nothing seems amiss. He also takes a moment to check his warning-spells, but once again nothing in this tiny Realm gives him pause.

He returns to the underground facility to watch SHIELD amass their defenses, preparing for the first real Bifröst opening in the morning. That _does_ create an issue, if a minor one; his usual hiding place in the laboratory now seems destined to be occupied by armed warriors of SHIELD. 

Loki ruminates over his options, eventually deciding he will hide in plain sight – literally. The same spell he employed while trying to prise Mjölnir from the rock all those months ago, just after Odin had banished Thor to Midgard. None will see him, if any happen to run into him physically they will barely remark upon it, and he will be only an arm’s-length away (literally) should Jane need him.

Though it may try his patience to be relegated to hiding at the precise moment of Jane’s achievement, they cannot at least actually prevent him from witnessing it.

His plans made, he returns to Jane’s bedroom but does not return to her side just yet. He does not require as much sleep as her, and although nothing seems awry, Loki finds himself unsettled.

Perhaps it is the ‘false alarm’ from weeks ago. Perhaps it is only the specter of Thanos that still hangs over him. Or perhaps it has everything to do with the implications of having Asgard once again within reach. 

As long as it has been impossible to travel between the Realms, it has been easy for Loki to pretend that nothing beyond Midgard and his consort is his problem. He has been able to focus almost solely on Jane, and on her work, and on making amends to her.

But once Thor can come to Midgard as easily as taking a walk down the Asbru Bridge, or perhaps Frigga, or – the horror! – Odin can address the Midgardian populace…Loki knows not what that will mean for him. 

Worse still, Loki does not know how Thor and Frigga convinced Odin to allow Loki’s return to Midgard; there is no reason to think Odin has not or will not change his mind. As long as the way remains closed, there is little chance Odin’s justice can reach Loki here. But once there is a path between the two Realms? 

Even if Odin chooses to withhold punishment, even if there is something of an uneasy truce…what role might ‘Loki Lokisson’ assume then? Can Asgard welcome him back with open arms? Thor and Frigga might, and their comrades-in-arms may even follow, if grudgingly. But will Asgard itself, so long as Odin persists in seeing Loki as a mad, misbehaving child?

_ This all assumes I  _ wish _to be welcomed by Asgard._ It is the only home he has ever known, but it has become poisoned for him. He was raised there, but he does not belong there, Frigga and Thor’s insistence to the contrary.

Where _does_ he belong, truly?

Unpleasant food for thought. He mulls over it long hours, until the stars fade and wan daylight fills Jane’s room.

It is almost enough to make him want to sabotage the Bifröst, but as tempting as that might be, Jane does not deserve to suffer just because Loki’s powers do not extend to seeing the future.

She is fortunately too preoccupied to notice Loki’s strained mood, or perhaps she attributes it to the same things she herself is anxious about. She prepares her ‘backpack’ and another bag to take with her, muttering out loud the entire time, while Loki’s inchoate misgivings deepen.

But as he has nothing tangible to point to, he sees no grounds for refusal when Jane asks him to magick her to the facility. Once there, Loki manages to muster an encouraging smile and a warm embrace for Jane, wishing her an unqualified success with today’s portal-opening, and to let him know as soon as possible afterwards if it was successful. Which is not needed, of course, but Loki must play the game.

He cloaks himself in a swirl of green and white light as Jane turns away – she will believe he has teleported away as usual – and he follows after her, twisting the hot desert wind to erase his footsteps in the sand as he keeps pace.

As welcoming delegations go, SHIELD’s attempt leaves much to be desired. Loki agrees with Jane on that, if for an entirely different reason; those guns the Misdgardians favour are entirely useless against Asgardian armour, and indeed against any other being they may encounter in Yggdrasil. For example the Chitauri, the Jotuns, the Fire Giants…Loki shakes his head at the folly of the mortals. If Fury is truly serious about planetary defense, he should have brought his Tesseract-based weapons technology to this scenario, such as that gun the Son of Coul had used on Loki back on the flying fortress before the Battle of Manhattan. _That_ had been a formidable weapon.

Loki continues to watch unseen, still feeling strangely unsettled but pleased to see Jane holding her own during what must surely be a stressful yet exhilarating time for her.

He prowls behind her and Stark, stretching his senses once more to track the flow of energy as they turn the reactor on, as the power arcs across the snaking wires and flows into the contained storm of light that will carry them across the cold reaches of space…

But when Jane steps forward, marching fearlessly towards the portal, Loki’s anxiety reaches its peak. He should have expected his brave little warrior-woman would want to go first, and yet…countless negative scenarios flash across his mind’s eye in what seems like fragments of a second.

Jane screaming as she falls through the deathly cold of space, a miscalculation leading her Bifröst to open in the middle of nowhere, far from the branches of Yggdrasil. Or a different miscalculation, and Jane steps off the portal into empty air rather than onto the Asbru Bridge, falling into the powerful sea that rings Asgard and drowning before Loki can reach her. 

Or the portal opening on Jotunheim, or Muspelheim, or the Dark World. All inhospitable to fragile humans all on their own, assuming no bloodthirsty warriors have gathered on the other end to slaughter _anyone_ who comes through.

Loki wishes he could observe what lies at the other end, but alas he cannot. The controlled storm of energies is fragmenting any magical senses he tries to press past the rim of the opening.

_ No. _ He will _not_ lose her now, by Yggdrasil.

He releases his cloaking spell, unmasking himself as he steps between Jane and the portal’s maw.

Jane’s expression is equal parts dismay and astonishment, and behind him Loki hears the unmistakable sound of the Midgardians readying their weapons, startled as they are by his abrupt manifestation.

There’s a twang from somewhere above them all – the Hawk remains in his nest as ever - barely audible over the deafening hum of the Bifröst, yet unerringly Loki lifts his hand, catching Barton’s arrow between his fingers before it can bury itself in his eye. Loki casts it far away, and quickly, as he has never been a slow learner by any means. He swiftly spins an invisible web of protection around both him and Jane, in case any other Midgardian proves foolish enough to fire on them. He does not blame them for being on a hair-trigger, but he will not spare them from his wrath if they harm Jane.

A half-second later, as an afterthought he extends his protection to encompass Stark and the so-called ‘techs’ as well. He is indifferent to them at best, loathes them at worst (mainly the metal man), but they are useful to Jane and as such, deserving of protection if for that reason alone.

“Loki! Step away from the portal,” Fury calls as he draws his own weapon. From the corner of his eye, Loki can see Romanoff doing the same.

He turns his back on them all. 

“Loki, what the _hell_ are you doing here?” Jane asks in the lowest voice she can manage while still being heard over the din of the Bifröst, despite the fact there is little gain in whispering.

“Jane, I-“ Loki starts to explain himself, but then pauses, distracted by Jane’s attire. More specifically, the pair of tall red boots she is clad in. He blinks down at them. “Why in Yggdrasil are you wearing _those_?”

His consort stares at him befuddled. “You told me Asgard is surrounded by water, so I figured best to be prepared?” She regards him as though he has lost his mind. “Please tell me you’re not blocking me from going to Asgard just because I’m wearing _galoshes_?”

_ She was not wearing those when I magicked her here. Perhaps they were in that large bag she was carrying _ -

Loki shakes his head sharply to clear such irrelevant fancies away, struggling for words as he tries to explain the gnawing uneasiness in his gut.

Something is wrong. Or is it perhaps that matters are going _too_ smoothly? Either way, he does not trust it.

“I am not, but please, Jane, allow me to step through the Bifröst first.”

By now Stark has sauntered halfway up the ramp leading to the portal. His hands are empty but his eyes are hard, and though there is no way Stark is a match for Loki without his armour, Loki can tell the mortal is thinking of trying to take Loki down regardless. 

“What?” Stark sputters before Jane can reply. “Wow, you must have huge _cojones_ to want to ruin this moment for your girlfriend.”

As usual Loki has no clue what Stark means, and in any case, this is between himself and Jane. “Of the three of us,” Loki scoffs back, sweeping his hand to indicate himself, Jane, and Stark, “which has traveled between realms before?” 

“Will both of you just _cut it out_?” Jane is fuming, stepping closer to the portal though her attention remains on Loki.

He turns his back on Stark and reaches to take her upper arms gently in his hands, bending down until their faces are on the same level.

“You must listen to me, Jane. This is important. I insist that you allow me to step through first. Once I am sure all is well, you are free to follow after me. Not being the first one through in no way diminishes your accomplishment, surely you can see that, my love?”

His use of that last word in front of Stark clearly surprises her, but she does not relent. “’All is well’?” she repeats, voice rising in her anger. Loki is remotely aware of shouting coming from the mortals outside the barrier of his protection spell, but he shuts it out. They are of no importance at the moment.

“If a mistake has been made and your Bifröst opens out into empty space, you will not survive it once you step through. It will end you, and I could not bear that.” He takes a deep, shaking breath. “Which is why you must allow me to go first. I can much more easily withstand a tumble through space. I did it before, and I will risk it again, for _you_.” He hopes this will appeal to her sense of self-preservation.

Sadly, it does not. “So, you _do_ think my calculations are off.” Enraged, Jane tears her arms free of his grip and steps back from Loki, closer to the portal. “Well, let me tell you something, Mr. _Perfect_ God. The other end _is_ in Asgard, and if you don’t trust my calculations, that’s OK, because you don’t _need_ to – it’s all been verified by the most powerful computers in the world, thanks to SHIELD pulling their strings, and computers don’t make mistakes, even if you’re sure _I_ do!”

Loki extends a hand to her, trying to soften his voice and manner, to coax her into seeing reason. “I do not mistrust your abilities or your calculations, my Jane,” he vows with total sincerity, and he hopes she believes him, “No, it is the _universe_ I mistrust. Something will go wrong. It always does when it comes to me, and to those things that are important to me. And you _are_.” 

Jane stares wide-eyed for a long moment at the raw honesty in his voice, and Loki for this once does not feel the slightest shame at the tear he feels rolling down his cheek. If such sentimental displays will keep her safe, he will do whatever it takes.

But Jane shakes her head slowly. “You’re always asking me to trust you,” she points out as she moves even closer to the portal, close enough to reach back and touch it, and Loki is too focused on her face to notice that proximity as she adds: “So now you need to trust _me_ , Loki-“

Light fountains from the surface of the portal, burning across Loki’s retinas. He holds a hand in front of his eyes as he forcibly blinks the afterimage away.

Jane is _gone_.

Panic and rage vie for dominance as Loki gathers himself to leap through the portal after her – how _dare_ she try to trick him, the Trickster? – but before he can do so, another pulse of light consumes the Bifröst in a silent explosion that nevertheless slams into Loki like a giant fist, driving him back. He slides down the ramp with the force of it, impacting the floor on his back hard enough to wrench a pained groan from his lungs.

He sets his teeth and raises his head in time to see blue-white lightning consume the portal, sizzling arcs racing along the cables back towards Jane’s machines and the heart-star.

There is no time to do anything except shield himself from the wild surge of energies.

Sparks explode and fly everywhere, the humans screaming and dodging for cover as machine after machine overheats and cables disintegrate.

“Jarvis, emergency shut-down procedures!” Loki hears Tony bark through the cacophony, but it is too late – half of Jane’s devices are already molten slag, and the energy released from the Bifröst is barreling towards the heart-star. Before Loki can gather his wits and his magic to try to thwart it, the lightning breaches the star.

Everything in his vision bleeds to pure white, and on sheer instinct Loki gathers his magic into a shield, the strongest he can form in a heartbeat, and he seals it over the doomed heart-star.

The energy spins into a vortex in the middle of the heart-star, gathering and shrinking into a tiny point, before holding for a long, deathly calm instant. Then it mushrooms outward.

The humans flinch and cower, but Loki is not idle. He pours all the power he can muster - from his bones, the earth, the air - into his makeshift shield.

By some miracle, it holds. The energies seethe along Loki’s wall of magic for several drawn breaths, before dissipating.

Nothing moves for a short time, except the intermittent showers of sparks from Jane’s dying equipment. Loki staggers to his feet, looking back the bent and melting frame that used to house the portal opening. If the carnage around him is anything to go by, Jane’s portal generator will not be operational again for some time.

Jane is trapped in Asgard…he _hopes_.

No matter, Loki will make use of his naturally-occurring pathway in the desert outside Jane’s city to reach Asgard himself. And once he finds her, he promises himself that a spanking for her audacity will be the _least_ of her punishment for frightening him so badly-

There’s a series of loud popping sounds from the perimeter of the room, and numerous bullets hit Loki in a wave. They do little harm to him, barely stinging through his heavy armour, but the combined weight of each impact makes him stumble. “I did nothing!” he shouts furiously as he catches and throws away another of Barton’s accursed arrows. He could retaliate, of course, but it would be best to conserve what magic he has remaining that he may use the portal in the desert. “Your equipment was obviously not designed to handle the energies-“

“Hold your fire!” Fury is yelling, and the SHIELD warriors obey with obvious reluctance. “We’re just wasting ammo,” Loki hears him explain in an aside to an indignant Council dignitary.

But Loki proves to have little time to dwell on such matters, because now Stark is right in front of him, gripping the lapels of Loki’s surcoat as Stark snarls, “After all that ‘please wait’ crap, you _push_ her through? You really _are_ a dick.”

Loki blinks in confusion, then pushes Stark away hard enough to make the man stumble, falling to his knees. “What nonsense are you spouting?” Loki hisses. “I most certainly _did not_ push her. She stepped through of her own accord, against my express wishes, or _were you not paying attention_?” Loki cannot keep from roaring the last part of that sentence.

Stark scowls up at him, soot and a shallow cut marring his cheek. “Not with your hands, sure. I’m not blind. But with your magic? I saw her get yanked in, and that’s _not_ funny, asshole. Even I’m smart enough to know there’s a time for pranks, and a time for-” He halts his diatribe and gets back to his feet, looking closely at Loki’s visage. 

Loki can feel the blood draining from his face as he stares sightlessly back at Stark, a new terror setting its razor-sharp talons into him. 

_ She did not go through the portal of her own accord. _

“Oh, _no_ ,” Loki whispers, eyes widening.

A noise loud enough to lead Loki to clap his hands over his ears rips through the room, followed by a series of vibrations strong enough to throw the entire assembly to its knees, including the God of Mischief.

Light fills the room again, of a similar hue yet even brighter than before, branding itself into the backs of Loki’s eyes so that he wonders if he’ll be blinded for life despite his healing abilities.

The cauterizing light shrinks down gradually, resolving itself into a new portal. It is exactly of the same shape, size and properties as Jane’s. But it is _not_ Jane’s portal; the heart-star behind Loki is now dark and belching acrid smoke, and Jane’s machines continue to spark and slowly collapse in on themselves, in the aftermath of the energy’s passage.

Nor does it _feel_ the same as Loki reaches out cautiously to touch it with his magic. Not the same, yet he recognizes the signature of that power instantly.

_ The Tesseract. _

A movement next to Loki alerts him to Stark’s presence, the mortal man wordlessly helping Loki to his feet, and the two of them advance slowly towards the new portal. 

Another motion behind them temporarily draws Loki’s attention, but it is only Barton and Romanoff bringing up their rear, though Loki feels too uneasy to laugh off their feeble attempts at defense. They may call themselves ‘Avengers’, the three mortals around him, but in the grand scheme of things they are next to insignificant.

Still, if it is energy from the Tesseract, that must mean Heimdall was watching Jane activate her Bifröst? Either Jane arrived in Asgard as planned before the portal malfunctioned, or she wound up somewhere else, and Thor was able to convince Odin to allow him to use the Tesseract to retrieve her, and then to reopen a path back to Midgard? Cautious relief lifts some of the weight of anxiety from his chest and shoulders.

“It is the Tesseract,” he explains to the mortals around him as they get closer, reaching the bottom of the ramp leading up to the portal. “Since it is currently on Asgard, this must mean Jane made it there safely, and Thor is using the Tesseract – or convinced Odin to use it – to reopen the Bridge.”

“Thank God,” Stark breathes, clapping Loki on the shoulder. “Thank God she’s OK.” Loki looks askance at Barton and Romanoff, whose weapons are aimed at the portal, and he wonders how they will react if Heimdall or Odin steps through the Bifröst. He can well imagine the imperious look the All-Father will grant them, if he is faced with such a welcome! 

They have gained the top of the ramp when Stark says, his brow furrowing, “Wait, that doesn’t explain what I saw. Would Thor or Odin have _pulled_ Jane through for some reason? Pretty impatient, if you ask m-“

“Asgardian,” declares a deep voice from the swirling, steaming depths of the portal. Also from the depths of Loki’s darkest nightmares.

Even though he knows it will not help in the slightest, Loki instantly calls his plate armour and helm around him from his pocket dimension, and draws a dagger, the blade gleaming green with poisonous magic. Loki finds himself extending his free arm out to hold Stark back – brave the mortal may be, but he is not wearing his armour. Though it would be equally fruitless against the being they are facing.

“Is that-?“ Stark queries, his face drawn and pale in the coruscating light of the portal.

“Thanos,” Loki replies, fear threatening to rob him of his reason, though he manages to keep that horror from his expression and voice from his long years of practice hiding his true emotions from others. 

The Black Widow and Hawkeye continue to train their weapons past Loki at the steaming maw of the Bifröst, and he nearly dissolves into bitter hysteria at the futility of it. Those are barely capable of harming _Loki,_ let alone a creature with the full power of the Tesseract at his command.

He takes a step forward, motioning to the mortals to stand fast. “I am the one you want. I am the deceiver, the betrayer,” he asserts quietly to the portal, though he knows all in the room can hear him. Other than the continuing showers of sparks from Jane’s dying Bridge, the room is silent as the Death Thanos ceaselessly courts. “Take me, and let the mortal woman return. She is of little use to you.” 

It is a terrible plan, to let himself be taken and tortured by Thanos again, but he has a much greater chance of survival than his fragile lover. He will just have to endure the pain and battle to retain his sanity for as long as he can, in the hopes that Thor will mount a rescue _this_ time-

A deep chuckle issues from the portal, and Loki must resist an urge to cover his ears once more. “I think not, Asgardian. Of ‘little use’ to me she might be, but to _you_?” Thanos chortles once more, and at the tone of it Loki assumes a defensive posture, impotent as it is.

Rather than confirm Thanos’ suppositions regarding Jane, Loki prefers to ascertain what has occurred here, the better to formulate another plan on the fly. “So you intercepted the other end of Jane’s Bifröst? Clever; I should have foreseen it.”

Loki had never predicted that Thanos would deign to kidnap Jane himself. In all things Thanos has usually preferred to sit back and watch his pawns at work. So Loki must wonder at the significance of this ploy by Thanos…and he does not like any answer he can come up with.

Thanos’ glee this time is louder and even more menacing. Cold fear rinses through Loki’s veins; something worse is coming, some knowledge he will not be heartened to learn.

“Not an uninteresting notion – I may wish to essay that with the Tesseract some point in the future – but no, your mortal arrived in Asgard as planned.” The deep, wickedly amused voice pauses, while the sense of icy terror spreads inside Loki. 

“Asgard is mine.”

Wrath envelops Loki, driving away all else, and he hurls both a string of curses and his dagger through the Bridge. Little results except more of Thanos’ ghastly hilarity.

“You lie,” Loki rages through clenched teeth. “Asgard is not so easily taken-“

“Oh, but it is, false Asgardian. Or was. But you need not take _my_ word on it. I am not so churlish as to take your consort from you without offering anything in exchange. So here is one who will confirm the status of your precious adopted home.”

An unidentifiable shape darkens the middle of the portal, then a large, limp body tumbles through. Loki catches glimpses of red fabric, silvered scale mail, blond hair…all matted with dark blood. With Mjölnir nowhere to be seen.

“No,” Loki whispers in dread, staring down at the prone, battered body. Behind him, several of the humans breathe Thor’s name in matching tones of dismay.

“ _Yes_ ,” answers Thanos with malicious delight. “Asgard has fallen, Betrayer, and its denizens will soon be sacrificed or recruited, as I deem fit. Your beloved Midgard will be next, for their brash refusal to accept _your_ rule and protection. Such as it is,” Thanos snickers.

“Your consort and I await you in Asgard,” the Titanian continues. “Assuming, of course, you do not choose to flee, coward that you are.”

The portal bulges, pushing out towards Loki and his entourage of Avengers in a soundless rush of light before it implodes, the shock still enough to drive Loki back again. By the time he has regained his muddled senses, the way is shut once more, the light extinguished and the circular frame smoking and caving in on itself.

_ Thanos has Jane  _ and _Asgard_. Loki’s worst fears have come true, seemingly all between one breath and the next.

He stares numbly at the melting remains of Jane’s dream, and he wonders if going mad would be preferable to enduring this appalling reality.

* * *

Jane groans, her head aching. She waits, her eyes closed, as she takes a moment to try to remember where she is and what just happened to her.

She remembers arguing with Loki right in front of the portal – the _nerve_ of him! –and that she’d been thinking of trying to suggest, if he would not let her go first, that they could both walk through at the same time. He’d be with her, so he’d have been able to protect her right away, if it was needed.

But before she had gotten the chance to make her suggestion, Jane recalls feeling a strong _tug_ from the portal. She’d had just enough time to wonder if she’d made a miscalculation after all, and maybe gravity worked differently at the portal’s periphery, causing that tug…

Then she’d been wrenched through.

She remembers screaming at first in surprise, but then had come the wonder. The rainbow-hued light racing past her, the planets and stars and nebulas she’d glimpsed wheeling by through the transparent walls of the wormhole as she flashed between the Realms faster than thought.

That had been the exhilarating part, the wonderful part, but then had come the landing. She remembers hitting something, _hard_ , and then nothing else. She doesn’t even know how long she’s been lying here. Seconds, minutes? Hours?

As far as she can tell, there’s smooth stone flooring underneath her, and dim light filtering through her eyelids though she still doesn’t dare open them yet. At least she seems to be indoors, and it’s not too hot or cold.

_ I guess I didn’t land on my feet, _ she belittles herself. _Typical._ She definitely needs to ask Loki or Thor about that whole ‘landing’ thing. Or maybe to make sure there’s some kind of mattress in the proposed landing zone next time so she doesn’t make a habit of concussing herself like this!

Jane groans again, inwardly this time, imagining the Asgardian dignitaries standing around her as she (as usual) awkwardly gets to her feet. Thor would barely notice or care, but the rest of them? She winces at the thought of opening her eyes to see everyone looking down at her.

But it’s too quiet. If there was a ring of people around her, she’d be hearing their voices, or at least the sounds of armour creaking and jingling. No, she seems to be utterly alone…except for the soft, hesitant footsteps approaching her. They stop a few yards away, and then “Are you all right, girl?” asks a quiet, worried female voice. 

_ Where the heck did I end up? I hope I’m not sprawled in the middle of the throne room or anything. _  
Jane cautiously opens her eyes and rolls carefully to her hands and knees as she stares around herself, confused and wary. 

There’s no question - she’s in a cell.

The low light is somehow emitting from the single wall at her back, the little room itself bare of any furniture, even a makeshift bed. A mesh of blue-white light the same colour as the arc-reactor energy seethes in the panes of the other three walls. 

_ Did they throw me in jail for trespassing or something? _ She can’t see Thor ever permitting that. Or does it have something to do with being Loki’s ‘consort’? Maybe Odin had decided to revoke Loki’s ‘day pass’ to Earth and was keeping Jane as a way to force Loki to return? She has trouble believing Thor would stand for that either.

“What the _hell_?” she mutters, turning to look for the source of the voice that just addressed her.

Jane soon discovers the cell next to hers, sharing one of the energy walls, and in it there’s an old, frail-looking man with a metal eye-patch, and a woman with dark gold, disheveled hair and frightened eyes. Both of them are covered in soot and dirt, and a substance which Jane is pretty sure even at this distance, and through the energy mesh, is dried blood.

Jane braces herself. _This can’t be good._

“Are you Jane Foster of Midgard?” the woman is asking. She moves closer, limping, until she can stand directly on the other side of the energy wall from Jane.

Jane can’t see any reason to lie. “Yes, that’s me. And you are?”

“I am Frigga, and that is Odin, the All-Father. We are Loki and Thor’s parents.”

Jane’s eyes widen in shock. Whenever she had permitted herself to fantasize about what it might be like to meet Loki’s parents, never in her wildest dreams had she thought it would go like _this_.

“What…what’s happening?” she asks, her voice lowering to match Frigga’s. If Loki’s parents are locked in the dungeons…who is in control of Asgard?

Anger and fear etch themselves into Frigga’s strained face. “A being called Thanos happened. I believe you Midgardians know of him. He attacked Asgard, and we proved ill-prepared to match the might of his army.” This last seems to be directed more at Odin than at Jane, as Frigga turns to shoot a dark look at the Asgardian king.

Odin’s eye glitters with barely-suppressed rage. “What would you have had me do, woman? Loki has hardly proven himself to be the most _trustworthy_ of individuals. It seemed far more likely at the time that he made this Thanos creature up as an excuse for his own poor behaviour. Should I have mobilized all of Asgard, sent them out to all corners of Yggdrasil searching for this mysterious Thanos? Should I have had warriors stand watch over all corners of the Realm, and kept them on edge for months, on guard against an attack that might have never come?”

Frigga shakes her head, clearly dismissing him as she turns back to Jane. “How did you come to be here on Asgard, Jane Foster? Has Thanos attacked Midgard once again?”

“I…have no idea,” Jane admits, not sure if she is more horrified by the idea alone, or by not knowing whether it’s true. “I guess as far as I know, he hasn’t _yet_. I was…” she flounders as she tries to explain, “I don’t know how much Thor or Loki has told you about me, but I’ve been trying to build my own version of your  Rainbow Bridge.”

“Yes?” Frigga prods.

“Well, we thought we were ready, that we had managed to build a working prototype, so this morning I programmed it to send me to Asgard, and…well, Loki tried to stop me. Maybe he sensed something was wrong?” She looks questioningly at Frigga.

“It is likely. My son has ever been sensitive to the subtle energies that flow through Yggdrasil.”

_ I should’ve listened, _ Jane berates herself, before going on: “Anyway, he wanted to go through first, he thought it would be safer for me. But something grabbed me and pulled me through the portal, and the next thing I know, I’m…here.” Jane shrugs helplessly, indicating the cell.

“So when last you saw Loki, he was well?” Frigga presses, worry creasing her beautiful features. 

“Sure,” Jane nods. “I mean, he was healthy, I guess. If that’s what you’re asking.”

“And Thor? Do you know aught of him?” 

_ She’s terrified _ . Jane’s hands go cold as she grasps just how bad off she – and everyone - is. “No. I mean, he wasn’t there when I opened the portal, as far as I know. Wasn’t he here on Asgard with you?”

Frigga explains, her voice heavy: “We have not seen him in days, I think…it is hard to gauge time in here. What I can tell you with surety is that the Chitauri beat the three of us and then threw us in here to rot, before they dragged Thor away. The guards told us that all remaining Asgardians who did not die in the attack were being forced into the Great Hall to witness Thor’s ‘surrender’, and that Thor was to be tortured publicly until he did. As Loki has no doubt told you, Thor is beloved by many, so no doubt this is being done to break the spirits of our people. And of myself and his father,” Frigga pauses bleakly, then gathers herself with an effort. “I do not know whether Thor has sworn allegiance to Thanos or not, nor whether that ended his torment, if yield he did.”

Frigga bows her head, hands pressed to the energy wall between them, and Jane sinks slowly down to her knees, overwhelmed by just how terrifying and hopeless the situation is.

The one being in the entire universe that Loki most fears not only has her, but Asgard as well, and Thor might already be dead.

Jane has no illusions that she might soon be joining the ranks of the dead, and yet, she knows enough about Thanos, from her conversations with Loki, to suspect it won’t be that easy for her.

He’ll want to keep her alive until Loki gets here.

_ If Loki comes. _ The negative little voice, more focused on Stark-Foster than on Loki in recent weeks, has gone back to its familiar target.

_ If Loki comes. _

* * *

Time proves to have little meaning in Jane’s cell. She can’t see the stars or the suns Loki told her about, and there’s nobody in the whole cell block but her and Loki’s folks, who are similarly disoriented. 

She doesn’t see a single guard. Maybe Thanos is powerful enough to keep an eye on them at a distance, like Loki himself seems able to with her?

Frigga paces back and forth inside her own cell, hands clenched in her skirts, and deep lines of tension etched in her face. Odin continues to glare out into the hallway outside, seemingly determined to ignore them. Especially Jane.

“Is there anything we can do?” Jane murmurs at last, because she has to do _something_. She has no idea if Thanos _can_ hear them, but it’s worth the risk.

_ Loki will come _ , she tells herself. She has to believe that, if only to keep the worst of her terror at bay.

_ Yeah, but it’s not like it’s just The Other who has you this time, _ whispers the negative voice. _It’s_ Thanos. _Thanos, who tortured Loki. Who scared Loki into attacking Earth. Admit it, you’d probably run to the other side of the universe, too._

Jane pushes that notion forcefully away. The idea that Loki would abandon her, abandon Asgard…the panicked feeling that follows on it is too much to handle right now.

_ Focus, damn it. _ It’s only a matter of time before she gets dragged in front of Thanos. Given her experience with The Other, Jane figures if there’s anything at all she can do to put the odds more in her favour she wants to know about it, _now_.

Odin pretends he hasn’t heard her, while Frigga has stopped pacing and is looking over at Jane. “Like, do either of you have any magic?” Jane asks them.

Frigga shakes her head, despairing. “My powers are similar to Loki’s. Illusions and the like…but alas, any magic I have tried to employ has failed utterly. I know not why. Perhaps Thanos has laid spells of some kind on these cells, to deaden our magic,” she explains, motioning towards the netting of light between her and Jane.

Odin chooses that moment to jump in, his voice harsh. “And what will _you_ do, Jane Foster? Does your _science_ extend to bending energy, to allow us to escape?”

Before Jane can retort, Frigga turns to Odin with an angry look on her face. It encourages Jane to snarl back: “I’m not the one who let Asgard be caught with its pants down,” and Frigga’s startled gaze snaps right back to her. Then Loki’s mother smiles, ever so slightly. 

Odin’s mouth drops open at Jane’s audacity. “You know nothing, mortal.”

“I know that Loki told you what happened in  New York , and what led up to it. I know Heimdall ‘sees everything’. There’s also those two ravens of yours, if I remember my mythology. So why wasn’t Asgard better prepared? Did you think that even if Loki was telling the truth, that you’d see Thanos coming long before he got here, and then you’d just stroll into your storage locker, pull out the Tesseract, Taser him and his army and it would all be over?”

A bitter laugh greets her words. “As I said, you know _nothing_ ,” he repeats. “A king does not unsettle his populace on the words of a mad, jealous child. A child known to lie, to deceive, and to twist the words and beliefs of everyone around him to his own purposes. Asgard does not jump to the word of such an ungrateful stripling. It does not _waste_ effort to verify the web of lies he spins.”

Jane scowls through the energy wall at Odin. “If that’s what you really think of Loki, then you don’t know him at all. No wonder he won’t forgive you for what you did.”

His eye glares venomously at her as Odin climbs to his feet, holding onto a nearby wall for support. In another place and time, Jane might actually feel sorry for him, frail and tired as he seems, but not now. _If this is the attitude Loki was faced with when the big secret of his heritage was revealed, I think I would have gone nuts, too. Out of sheer fucking_ frustration _!_

“What _I_ did?” Odin spits angrily, “I took him in, when he was left to die. His family expelled him, and I took him in. Raised him, gave him a home, a family! And he rewards us with _betrayal_.” Odin sneers the last word.

“Seems to me _you_ betrayed him first.” Jane points out, though she’s already growing tired of this. She can see where Loki learned his stubbornness from!

Frigga blinks at her, then she gives Jane that smile again. “I can see why my son – _both_ my sons – adore you,” she observes, and Jane feels that blushing thing happening on her face again. 

Jane shrugs, brushing away the compliment. “I’m just trying to help. If you think Loki is _happy_ about how everything turned out, well…again, you don’t know him.”

“Well?” Frigga prompts when Odin says nothing. “Can you not see how your decisions have harmed Loki? You have always maintained that your actions have a purpose. Let us hear what it was, then.” 

Odin sits in stony silence.

Frigga’s voice softens and her shoulders sag, and despite Jane’s anger at what Odin’s plot has cost Loki, has cost _all_ of them, Jane has to feel for Frigga. “What was your purpose here, my love?” Frigga presses him.

But Odin only shakes his head and resumes glowering out at the hallway.

“I don’t get it,” Jane continues. It’s better than worrying about Thanos, or Loki, or how knee-deep in crap she is right this second. “Why would you think Loki would _want_ to rule a people who rejected him?” _Focus on this, focus on this._

“Peace,” Odin pleads, and at first Jane thinks he’s telling her to shut up again.

“What?” Jane scoffs.

“Peace. Jotunheim and Asgard have ever been at odds. I saw an opportunity to ease that tension. To give the people of Jotunheim one of their own to rule them, but one raised on Asgard, who would be able to bring a more… _civilized_ way of thinking and living to their culture. And Loki would see it as an opportunity to prove himself Thor’s equal.”

For a moment, Jane wonders if Odin is on the brink of admitting his mistakes. 

“A king does what he must for his kingdom,” Odin concludes, his expression defiant again.

Jane rolls her eyes. “Something tells me that’s your rationalization _every_ time something blows up in your face,” Jane retorts. 

“I did what I must. As I will continue to do,” Odin insists, and Jane wonders if it is entirely her imagination, or a trick of being forced to look at Odin through the energy wall, but his one eye seems to glimmer with tears.

Jane is interrupted by the reverberating clang of a door opening somewhere down the hall. She edges warily towards the back of the cell. Someone’s coming.  Whether it’s the Chitauri alone or Thanos himself, and whether they’re here for either her, Frigga, or Odin, Jane can’t see any way this is a good thing.

She recognizes their chittering laugh before she sees them, and the memories associated with it send a chill down Jane’s spine.

It’s a small group of four Chitauri, who stop in front of Jane’s cell.

Jane shrinks back, pressing herself hard into the solid stone wall at the back of her cell, as if she can somehow escape through it. One Chitauri gestures with some kind of device, and a doorway swirls open in the middle of the energy wall. 

Two of them come through it and clamp their hands around Jane’s upper arms, and Jane bites her lip hard enough to taste blood so she won’t scream. If she starts screaming now, she may never stop. 

“Where are you taking her?” Frigga is shouting, pounding on the wall of energy and causing sparks to sizzle down onto the floor of Jane’s cell. “Leave her be; she is innocent. No, let Thanos come and stand before Asgard’s rulers himself, or is he too much the _coward_?”

But the Chitauri ignore Frigga as they tow Jane from the cell. She’s barely able to keep her feet under her as they pull her along and up a flight of stone steps.

_ Loki will come for me. Loki will come for me. _ She repeats it over and over in her mind like a mantra as she is dragged through the elegant, vaulted halls, the walls and floors stained in many places with darkened blood, and smelling of smoke and death.

* * *

The huddled shape at Loki’s feet moans brokenly, and Loki reluctantly kneels down beside Thor. He requires a new plan, and swiftly, and his best source of information is semi-conscious and bleeding all over the floor.

Jane is too fragile for Thanos to risk torturing, Loki hopes, using the thought to force down his growing sense of horror. No, Thanos will want Loki to bear witness to her agonies, to her dying screams. So Jane will likely be safe, at least for a short time.

Of course he knows this also means that if he is captured, Jane’s life is forfeit, and probably in the slowest, most excruciating ways Thanos can devise.

Loki closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to steady himself, ignoring the mortals clustering thickly around him and Thor. He opens his eyes again and reaches to shake Thor’s nearest shoulder, Loki’s flesh crawling at the feel of cold blood and broken bone under his hand. 

The urgency makes Loki ungentle. “Thor! You must wake. You must tell me what has happened on Asgard.” When Thor continues to be unresponsive, except for the low animal moans, Loki adds in desperation: “Thanos _has_ Jane!” 

As he hoped, that strikes a chord with his oafish un-brother, even in his shattered state. Thor rolls gradually onto his back, crying out as bone grates raw against bone. He gazes up at them all at last, his face a mess of slashes and abrasions, his nose and one cheek-bone flattened, but Loki is unmoved. Thor is Asgardian; he will heal with time, but Loki has not that time to wait.

“Lost her so soon after rescuing her?” Thor asks, panting. “Had I my strength I would-“

“Jane built her Bifröst and aimed it at Asgard,” Loki growls, incensed at Thor’s misplaced chivalry. “How was I to know that Thanos-”

He is rudely interrupted by Director Fury. “If we could save the grandstanding for later,” Fury says impassively, “I think we need to know what’s happening on Asgard, and specifically how the Tesseract is involved.”

Loki nearly fells the man with a blow – of course Fury would care more about the Tesseract than the welfare of the Realm Eternal (or of Jane) – but it has the desired effect.

“Thanos knew of Heimdall’s gaze, and he found a way to cloak himself and his ships,” Thor whispers, his eyes jumping from Fury to Loki. “By the time Heimdall realized what was transpiring, half the complement of Thanos’ ships was circling the Palace. The Chitauri and the Einherjar fought, but it was merely a distraction. By the time Father and I made it to the Vault, Thanos had already teleported himself into it, and had laid hands on not just the Tesseract, but…the Gauntlet.”

At this, Loki sucks in a dismayed breath. He remembers the stories Odin used to tell of that relic. While the Gauntlet will not be as powerful with only the Tesseract mounted in it, being bound to the Infinity Gauntlet _will_ make the Tesseract even more formidable as a weapon. Loki should have realized the Gauntlet was Thanos’ true target, though as Thanos had never mentioned the Gauntlet in his past dealings with Loki, and as Loki had not thought of that relic in years, he had not made the connection.

“And?” Loki prompts, though he wishes he did not have to hear any more. 

Thor squeezes his eyes shut, one leaking bloodied tears. “One blast from the Tesseract was enough to lay Father and myself low, and Mjölnir could do nothing against the energy shield Thanos raised around himself with the Gauntlet. Thanos had his Chitauri remove Father and I to the Great Hall, and another contingent of the aliens caught Mother and brought her as well. Then Thanos used some kind of mind-communication spell, fuelled by the Gauntlet, to tell every living man, woman and child that if they did not surrender instantly, he would kill the three of us, and then everyone remaining alive in Asgard.” Thor’s voice breaks at the end of this recitation.

“After some hours it seemed like most, if not all of Asgard, did surrender. They had little choice in any case, with the Chitauri and their giant half-metal beasts reducing all of Asgard to ruin and ash. But he will kill everyone regardless, won’t he?” This last is directed at Loki. 

Fear and ire wage their war inside Loki, poisoning his every breath and thought, and he has to restrain a bitter, hysterical laugh. Thanos will sacrifice those he does not experiment upon for his army to his lady Death. _Better they had died fighting, every man, woman, and child,_ though he does not say it aloud.

Instead, he snarls: “Not if I kill him first.” 

Thor catches at Loki’s wrist. “I know not,” he slurs, “what became of Heimdall, nor our comrades. I did not see them within the Hall before they took Mother and Father and I away to the dungeons, but…” He motions helplessly. “I do not know if you will have any aid, you and the Avengers, when you go to Asgard-“

Loki rises to his feet before Thor is even finished. Predictably, Fury is already attempting to argue with Thor that this is not a situation that requires the Avengers’ aid, and in any case, Loki has little use for the Midgardians and their excuses. 

The sounds around him fade from his attention as he considers the weapons he can muster. He knows not if Heimdall and the others are free, so he cannot count on them. The Avengers he has already discounted. He reaches with his magic to touch the remains of Jane’s Bifröst, but as he surmised earlier, it is in no state to get him to Asgard, or indeed anywhere else. Even if it could get him to the Realm Eternal, there is no doubt a horde of Chitauri awaits on the other side.

He will have to make do with his other pathway to Asgard.

He is distantly aware of Stark beginning to argue with Fury, protesting loudly that Thanos will torture Jane, and does Fury value her life so little, while Fury replies Jane is likely already dead – clearly, Fury has paid little heed to Loki’s tales regarding Thanos - and someone is tugging on Loki’s arm though he brushes whoever it is aside discourteously, magicking himself away to the desert outside Jane’s city.

Loki has _no_ time for the mortals and their pointless debates. 

His warning spells remain silent, and he kicks sand over the glowing lines and runes with a vicious curse. Small good had they done him. He should have heeded the supposed ‘false alarm’ and taken Jane, and _run_ that very instant, despite her heated protests-

_ No _ . He has no time for such thoughts, either. It is far too late. Instead, he extends his senses once more, searching.

The natural pathway, the one Loki made so much use of the last time he had rescued Jane. Yes, it is still there, and he can tell it still leads to Asgard.

Loki spins his cape aside and sits on a nearby rock to plot. While it is unlikely Thanos knows of this back-door into Asgard, as the magic is faint until triggered, Thanos will likely recognize the signature of Loki’s magic the moment Loki opens the way for himself.

_ And then what? _ Loki asks himself. He may only have a few seconds to extend his awareness over the Palace to locate Jane, to magick himself to her, to magick them back, and to pass through the portal back to Midgard. 

This all assumes Thanos is not quick enough to catch them, a wager Loki is exceedingly hesitant to test. 

Loki pulls his helm off and rubs his aching forehead with his palm, trying to _focus_. He knows this is a variant of Thanos’ usual ploy; terrorize Loki with the threat of what could be happening to Jane and to Asgard. Terrorize Midgard with the threat of the same thing happening to them.

Thor’s battered appearance and woeful tale are no doubt part of that tactic. Leave one victim alive, to carry the story of blood and destruction to the next world, to strike fear into their hearts.

_ Focus. Concentrate _ . _Be the plotter, the deceiver, the master of schemes. Do not give in to the fear, or Thanos has already won._ _And Jane is as good as dead._

_ You did not give in to fear when The Other had Jane, and you did not fail her. You must do the same this time- _

Loki’s eyes widen then as he remembers rescuing Jane, and some of the obstacles he had been forced to surmount.

_ You fool. Surely Thanos has set his Guardians on Asgard, to block all magics except those of Thanos and the Gauntlet. _

Loki’s head drops into his hands in despair. If indeed such is the case, if there are Guardians to contend with, the natural pathway may not bring Loki there at all. Even if it does, Loki will be stranded on Asgard without his magic, and likely hunted by Thanos and his ilk the entire time (brief as that period is likely to prove). Not a wise strategy to employ.

He cannot go any further, cannot formulate a plan without knowing how likely this scenario is. He cannot afford wasting time, concocting plans doomed to fail from the outset.

Rising from his rocky seat, Loki spools his magic out, calling the pathway into existence. He reaches through the gate, trying to set the other end to arrive on Asgard-

And feels the other end of the portal skitter away from its goal.

He tries again, his teeth set hard against each other until they pain him. But after three tries, he must admit defeat. It is true, a Guardian has been set in Asgard to block all power except that emanating from Thanos. Loki’s makeshift Bifröst will not take him to Asgard.

Thanos, it seems, wants to make this as excruciatingly difficult for Loki as possible.

Loki returns to his rock, despondent. Perhaps it _would_ be better for Jane after all if he ran.

He allows himself to wallow in that cowardice for a breath or two, then drives the notion away. Perhaps initially, it will be best for Jane, but Loki _knows_ Thanos. If Loki flees, Thanos will locate him, and will send him non-essential pieces of Jane until guilt and rage draw Loki back out of hiding. In addition, Loki knows he cannot trust that SHIELD will do anything to save Jane, not if Fury’s calm words are anything to go by, and Thor is in no shape to help mount a rescue.

No, it is up to Loki, and Loki alone. But he must find another way to get to Asgard, that can not only pierce the Guardian’s sphere of influence, but that Thanos will not detect…

_ Impossible. _

Even deep in his disheartened thoughts, Loki hears the dusty footsteps approaching him long before she arrives. “There you are!” the mortal exclaims, and from the strain on her face it’s obvious that she already knows what has transpired. 

“Lady Darcy,” he rasps dismissively, staring past her into the desert as if the elusive answer is to be found written in the dry-baked earth. 

She says something to him but Loki does not pay her any heed. How had this annoying, never-silent human even known where to look for him? While he had shown Jane his warning-spells once many weeks ago, in an attempt to reassure her that he was taking steps this time to protect her (insufficient as they had been), Darcy had not accompanied them. Jane must have shared that knowledge with her at some other time.

_ Entirely irrelevant. Focus, damnable fool! _

“I found him,” she is saying into her hand, the bizarre action and words barely registering in Loki’s distracted mind. “It’s just Darcy,” she reminds him as she holds out something in his direction. Loki pays no mind to it until she walks up to him and waves it under his nose, and then he recognizes it as one of their ‘cell phones’. “It’s for you,” she explains, her imperative.

He’s expecting Thor, or perhaps Fury, but it is Stark. The background noise leads Loki to believe that the man is back in his metal suit, not that Loki truly cares about such trivialities.

“What?” he barks into the phone.

“Ah, Loki. May I have a word?” Stark’s mocking voice fills his ears.

Loki grinds his teeth together. He has not the time to spend on this imbecile, and yet…something tickles at his memory, though it is gone before he can grasp it. A possible solution to his problem, if he can just recall it! Perhaps indulging the metal man will jog the notion loose. “You can have _more_ than one, depending on how much you annoy me in the telling.”

“Whoa, be careful there. You shouldn’t hurt the feelings of those people who are in a position to help you.”

Loki sneers laughter. “Oh, your esteemed Director Nick Fury has decided to aid Jane after all? I was under the impression he was ill-inclined to go seeking war on a world not his own. He would rather wait until Thanos’ army looms at his doorstep. Because that worked so _well_ for Asgard.”

“Nope. And it doesn’t matter what Fury thinks. I’m working with SHIELD, but they don’t _own_ me. Nor any other Avenger. I’ll bet I can convince at least some of the gang to help us. Help _you_. Especially if you can whip up that Bridge you used to get Jane last time, and cast a couple sleep-spells of yours that Coulson told me about on those damned aliens-“

Loki laughs again without humour. “My sleep-spell is useless against beings like the Chitauri. Were they entirely flesh, yes. But mind-influencing magics such as a sleep-spell do not affect beings who are part machine. That is why Thanos employs the Chitauri in his armies. But such is completely inconsequential; I cannot fight the Chitauri unless I can get to Asgard, and my attempt to employ my secret pathway failed. Thanos is blocking my magic, and with your portal destroyed, there is no simple way to get to Asgard.”

Again, Loki feels it – there’s an answer, somewhere, to his dilemma, and it has to do with Stark, and Jane’s Bridge – but in his anxiety once again it slips away even as he tries to keep hold of it.

“…quick to give up. We can rebuild the portal, we have the technology, if you’ll pardon the pun.” Stark pauses for a beat. “Was Thanos right about you? Gonna turn tail and abandon your lovely lady to Thanos’ nasty clutches?”

“Why should _you_ want to help me, metal man?” Loki hisses, turning his back on Darcy and her crossed arms and unimpressed air. “What is Jane Foster to you, except a stairway by which you can ascend to even greater heights of self-aggrandizement?”

“I’m not doing this for you, you ass. Jane is my _friend_ ,” Stark growls, his voice hard. “I know the concept of ‘friendship’ is a little lost on you. Funny, I would’ve thought spying on us should have taught you _something_ -“

The case of the cell phone creaks warningly as Loki’s knuckles whiten around it.

“I was _not_ ‘spying’. You mortals, who have always doubted Jane’s work, why should you alone have the privilege of watching her celebrate her moment of glory? I, at least, have always had faith  in her intellect and abilities.”

_ This is a waste of time,  _ he thinks _,_ his sense of panic increasing _. Time that Jane may not have._

He shuts out Stark’s immaterial reply, turning his scattered wits back to practicalities as much as he can. He needs a way to get to Asgard, and he cannot see any use the Avengers can possibly be to him, either to get him there, or to conquer Thanos. Midgard, as Loki had told Jane long ago, has no weapons that can harm Thanos, or none that will harm Thanos and not countless other people, likely including Jane.

But he has no answers. Morosely, he turns his attention back to Stark.

“You can rationalize it any way you want, buddy, but it’s still spying. I really don’t understand what Jane sees in you. But like I said before, I’m not doing this for you.” Stark pauses again, and Loki hears a change in the background noise. “Stay put, Horny, I should be there in about-“

_ What is the point? _ _We cannot get to Jane._ “I care not,” Loki cuts him off. He punches the little red button on the cell phone, as Jane taught him, and shoves it back at Darcy. He spins away to stalk across the sand, back towards the place where the natural pathway springs from. Forcibly, he tries to prise the memory from the depths of his mind, but it evades him yet again.

Cold trickles into the pit of his stomach, much like the cold sweat sliding down the sides of his face. Despair rends at him as he remembers: even if he finds a way to get to Asgard, what then? Once he arrives, his magic will still be obstructed. No illusions, no teleporting. No magic daggers.

He casts his mind back to his rescue of Jane from The Other. After a moment he stops in his tracks, as it occurs to him that perhaps not all magics will be blocked by the Guardians. For example, Loki’s illusory Asgardian face had remained, even before he’d attacked The Other’s stronghold.

As he did then, Loki wonders at this anomaly and how he might make use of it. He wonders if, for example, his innate Jotun abilities might somehow be beneath the Guardians’ notice.

Despite his aversion to accessing that unwanted part of himself, it may be the only way to lay Thanos low. The Casket of Ancient Winters is a powerful weapon, and it still resides in his pocket dimension. Loki is not even certain Thanos knows of its existence. 

At their first encounter Thanos had torn through Loki’s defenses and read much of his ambitions, hopes, and fears before Loki had proved able to evict him again. But whether Thanos had in that moment glimpsed the contents of the pocket dimension, or realized their significance if he had, this Loki does not know. Thanos had never ordered Loki to use the Casket during the Battle of Manhattan, and surely if he _had_ known about it, Thanos would have desired Loki to use it?

Loki does know that energy-based weapons will not pierce Thanos’ shield, and he has witnessed countless weapons of metal – including his own, when he was first captured – stopped as well by Thanos’ energy-shield.

But a blast of _cold_? Or arrows or swords of ice? He wonders. What is ice, after all, but frozen water? Surely Thanos will not think to marshal his defenses to deflect something so innocuous as _water_?

It also begs the question if Thanos will be able to sense the Casket’s energies once Loki arrives on Asgard. It will do Jane little good if Loki finds a way into Asgard, only to immediately be captured when the Casket acts as a beacon. In fact, it will do Jane nothing but ill.

He is not certain about any of this, and being forced to deal with so many unknowns worries him immensely. If he fails, he and Jane will both die, and not quickly. There is also the not-insignificant matter of the fact that the presence of the Guardian will prevent Loki from accessing his pocket dimension, thus he will need to pull the Casket out here on Midgard, and carry it with him through the pathway, and also during his search for Jane on Asgard, which of necessity he will need to do on foot, and stealthily.

_ Which will be difficult with the Casket in hand, _ he recognizes. It is rather unwieldy, unlike the last large weapon he carried, Thanos’ scepter. 

_ The scepter. _

Loki hears Darcy approaching once more, but he shuts her out the better to consider _this_ option. Even considering how much power he drained from himself to raise that protective shield back in the underground facility, it would not be too difficult to reclaim the scepter from SHIELD. He knows from past spying where SHIELD’s version of Odin’s Vault lies (he thinks they refer to it as ‘The Fridge’), and he could lay hands on the scepter well within the hour.

The question is, _should_ he?

Loki knows the power in the scepter is twin to that which flows within the Tesseract. He does not know who created the scepter, how it became separated from the Tesseract, nor how Thanos had acquired it. But Loki had recognized how the Tesseract would not defend itself against the scepter. Which was why he had so subtly ‘suggested’ to Selvig to create a way that the scepter could compel the closure of the portal during the Battle of Manhattan. 

The power in the scepter, properly harnessed, could trigger the natural pathway, and the Guardians should not recognize it as hostile. The portal could then take Loki to Asgard, and Loki could also use the scepter’s power to fuel his illusions, his teleportation, his retrieval of the Casket if need be…

Alas, again there are those unknowns. The scepter has been in Loki’s hands before, thus he knows all too well that it is also _Thanos’_ tool. It may allow him to get to Asgard, but once there, will it turn traitor on Loki? He has been influenced by it before, this he knows all too well. It is quite possible, even probable, that trying to use it will only facilitate failure.

_ But what other choice have I? _

A shadow slithers across the sand to join Loki’s, and there’s a tugging at his sleeve. 

Loki curses inwardly at this newest delay. “What is it now?” he asks harshly. Time is slipping away from him.

Darcy backs up a step, at the ferocity of his expression no doubt. She hesitates, but before Loki can snarl at her to get on with it, she speaks: “Look, Loki, I know the Avengers aren’t exactly your favourite people, but-“

“Enough with these Avengers! You are making the assumption that they will help,” he growls poisonously. “Even if Stark is as good as his word and can raise them quickly, I have little doubt SHIELD will arrive and halt our efforts as soon as their warriors in the area can converge on us.”

At this, Darcy looks skeptical. “Um, you _have_ fought the Avengers, right? When was the last time Tony listened to Fury? I’ll bet he’s already convinced Captain  America and that Hulk guy to come along, just for the fun of smashing Thanos to little bits. Even if SHIELD wants to stop you guys, they won’t want to get in the Hulk’s way. And you _know_ Thor’s not going to sit by and let some asshole hurt Jane.”

“Thor is the only member of that so-called ‘team’ whose abilities might be anywhere near equal to the task,” Loki points out to her. “And he is wounded too grievously to fight.”

“You can’t do this alone,” Darcy insists passionately as Loki turns away again. “You had help from Asgard the last time you rescued Jane, and that wasn’t even against the Big Baddie!”

Loki rounds on her now, furious. “So, I should entrust Jane’s welfare – and mine, and all of Asgard’s – to that pack of disorganized, lost creatures? They only defeated Thanos’ army before because _I SAW TO IT_!” He’s roaring by the last few words, and Darcy takes three more hasty steps back.

In a far distant corner of his mind Loki feels guilty for taking out his emotions on such a helpless target. But he must pool his strength to save Jane, and he does not have the leisure for this. 

He can sense Darcy bracing herself. It reminds him of Jane’s own bravado, ill-advised it has been at times. “Loki,” she declares firmly, “now is so _not_ the time for your ‘Issues’ to get in the way. Do the math. Two or more heads are better than one, especially if they’re _superhero_ heads. Or supervillain in your case, I guess.”

_ Is she  _ still _talking?_ Loki rolls his eyes and turns his back on her, determined not to pay her another sliver of his attention. In fact, he should just magick himself-

“What about that favour you owe me?” Darcy persists. “What did you call it, a ‘boon’?”

Loki’s eyes roll in their sockets again before he turns to gift her with a look which has frightened off far more sage people than she. “What of it?” he hisses, humouring her – somewhat – for the moment.

She straightens her spine and meets his glare with one of her own. “I’m calling it in. My ‘boon’ is that you’ll work with the Avengers – and SHIELD, if they’ll behave themselves– to get Jane back. And to kick Thanos’ ass.”

Loki hadn’t expected her to play that particular card, but it matters not. “No,” he declines, following it with a mocking laugh. _Presumptuous little-_

“No?” Darcy repeats, seemingly even angrier than Loki himself. “I don’t think you get to refuse! You _owe_ me.”

“True,” he agrees, slightly more amiable, “but that does not mean that I do not get some say in the _manner_ of how I repay that debt.”

“Fuck, Loki,” Darcy growls, “I know you don’t really have a heart of stone, despite that reputation of yours, so can you really just stop being such an asshole and let other people help you?”

Something in her words jogs at his memory again. But beyond her noises, Loki can detect the sound of vehicles approaching. SHIELD, no doubt.

No. He has not the time for this. Jane does not have it. Asgard does not have it. He must think, and for that he needs a lack of interference. He magicks himself away. This once, chaos is not his ally.

Loki takes himself to the last possible place he thinks SHIELD will look – their own nearby base, the one which Jane has been frequenting to see the mind-healer. On the roof of the building, Loki cloaks himself in the shimmering waves of heat rising off the surface and works to still his thoughts.

He replays Darcy’s words in his mind: _I know you don’t really have a heart of stone, despite that reputation of yours, so can you really just stop being-_

Heart of stone.

_ Heart- _

He closes his eyes as a memory intrudes. 

_ Loki is in Stark Tower, facing Stark as the latter moves out from behind a low counter, an alcoholic beverage in hand. In Loki’s hand is the scepter, humming with the low, steady pulse of the Tesseract’s energy. _

How will your friends have time for me, when they're so busy fighting you? _he says to Stark._

Loki watches himself raise the scepter, the tip aimed at Stark’s arrogant little heart, hears the metallic clack of metal greeting metal, and then-

_ Nothing_. 

On the roof in the here-and-now, Loki’s eyes snap open. Stark’s heart-star, that little round of metal and glowing light in Stark’s chest, had conquered Thanos’ scepter.

Just as the scepter, an extension of the Tesseract’s power, had defeated the portal in New York.

He sinks slowly into a crouch as he considers the ramifications.

The scepter could not defeat Stark’s miniature heart-star, though the latter _had_ defeated the Tesseract. 

Is it possible that the power of the heart-star is akin to the Tesseract’s energy? 

Not only did Stark’s heart-star impede the scepter, Loki discerns, but if a Guardian is indeed what is preventing Loki’s secret pathway from getting to Asgard, it is very telling that Jane’s Bridge, fuelled by a giant heart-star, _was_ able to get through the Guardian’s boundary. There’s no reason to think Thanos only erected the barrier only after Jane arrived on Asgard.

This means it was there when Jane opened her Bifröst to Asgard, and therefore the Guardian is not or cannot fight against that power.

_ The power inside the heart-stars is sister to that of the Tesseract.  _

Not as powerful, not nearly, but perhaps that too will be in Loki’s favour. Even if Loki uses arc-reactor energy as a source to drive the natural pathway, and to source his own magics, perhaps such a weak echo of the Tesseract’s power will escape Thanos’ notice entirely, or be mistaken for something else.

Cautious hope stirs within Loki, as he reaches out his awareness to assess just how many heart-stars exist in this Realm, and how large and powerful they are. 

Perhaps all is not lost.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Six of the Light in the Dark series. The long-awaited showdown between Loki and Thanos. Hang onto your (horned) hats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Many thanks and naked Jotun!Lokis to canyr12. Enjoy. ;)  
> Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, I make no money from this, sadly.  
> Author’s Note: Only ONE chapter (an epilogue) to go, and then I am finished this, my first really successful epically-long multichapter fic. *grovels before Loki in gratitude* 
> 
>  

Magic. The mortals do not understand it, many may not believe in it, but that does not make its existence any less real. 

Magic follows rules, if not the same ones as Jane’s ‘science’.

The first rule is that all magical spells must have a source. It is often easiest, simplest, to fuel it from one’s own life-force.

Being gods, Asgardians are possessed of a powerful life-force relative to other beings, and those who practice the magical arts most often use this life-force to fuel their magics. Even though Loki is not Asgardian, he learned long ago to do the same.

Cast a powerful spell and that life-force will be drained, leaving the caster tired and weak. Loki experienced this after his frantic rescue of Jane the first time. 

Push too far, he knows, and the body and mind will be exhausted. It is even possible to die, although once again this is not typical of Asgardians.

But magic can be sourced in other ways than from life-force. To the skillful mage, magic can be sourced from nature – the earth, the stars, the pulsing fires in the cores of planets. The energies generated by relics like the Tesseract, or by the heart-stars Stark created.

It is this energy that Loki has just used to successfully break through the defenses Thanos has put around Asgard.

Loki’s arrival is more jarring than he is used to, the energies more unpredictable than he anticipated. He goes to one knee as he materializes, gasping before he manages to silence himself. But he need not have worried; judging by the lack of Chitauri guards pouncing upon him, this particular egress from Asgard’s Palace remains known only to him. 

Even had Loki not already been informed as to what has transpired here in his former home, he would have known immediately that war has come to the Realm. Even down here, in the depths of the earth, Loki can detect the acrid reek of battle, the undertones of smoke and blood marring the air.

Loki looks down at it, the small heart-star he helped himself to back on Midgard. He had examined all the other small ones Stark possesses, and this one, except for the one currently lodged in Stark’s chest, is the strongest. 

He had managed to find a small leather strap in his pocket dimension, and then rapidly worked out a way to knot it through the base of the case holding the star. He will need both hands free to defend himself, or to wield the Casket if he so chooses. If he is given the opportunity.

He grimaces at the mere notion. If he employs the Casket, he knows Odin’s illusion will temporarily fall and anyone nearby – Jane, for instance – will see his true face. Much as he dreads that, right this moment the Casket is the only weapon he can think of that might affect Thanos. Loki does not require that Thanos be killed, if such is even possible with extreme _cold_ , only that he be briefly frozen, or slowed. Just long enough that Loki can acquire Jane and magick them both back here to the portal to Midgard, and relative safety.

But he will wait until the very last second to pull the Casket from his pocket dimension. For one thing, he doubts it will work at all with the Guardians still in operation. For another, Loki does not know if Thanos will be able to sense the energy that emanates from such a powerful weapon long before Loki is anywhere near Jane. If Thanos can detect the presence of the Casket, Loki will lose the element of surprise…and then he and Jane will lose their lives. 

Staring into the star’s depths, he can feel the pulsing energy stored inside this hand-sized storm of blue-white light. 

Will it be enough? It brought him here, but whether it will yield enough power to do all that is required remains to be seen. 

He supposes he will discover that answer soon enough.

Much of Loki’s own life-force has already been spent. Such had been the cost of generating the protective barrier against the explosion in Jane’s laboratory. He will not be able to use much of his own power, not even to supplement the star. 

Loki settles the strap bearing the star across his chest as best he can. Not for the first time he contemplates donning his plate mail and horns, but as with the prior moments he gave consideration to this idea, he decides against it. It will not serve him against Thanos, and he is more mobile and agile in his usual leathers.

He takes a deep breath of the tainted air. _It is time to begin._

Unwinding a small amount of energy from the star, Loki spins a cloak of invisibility about himself. Again it feels odd and unnatural, like trying to speak a foreign tongue for the first time, but Loki muscles the energy into the form he wants, weaves and works it, until he knows he is now hidden from view.

The Tesseract’s power is everywhere. Loki can feel it radiating from the earth beneath his feet, the stone walls of the castle, and even, when he stretches out his senses cautiously, the waters of the Great Ocean. Thanos truly has taken full control of Asgard.

He waits for a time, in case Thanos has somehow sensed him, despite the similarity between the Tesseract energy and that of the heart-star. Better to make his escape quickly if needed, rather than be caught. Jane’s life hangs in the balance. 

_ Unless Thanos is faster than I- _

No, he cannot afford to think like that, lest it paralyze him with indecision and fear. The Tesseract exerts untold, unlimited amounts of energy; Loki’s tiny version pales in comparison. He _must_ believe that a smaller source of energy, flaring up in a place where Thanos is not expecting an attack, will escape the Titanian’s notice long enough that Loki can rescue Jane and return here. That would be preferable.

As Loki hoped, the minutes pass and nothing happens. Thanos is oblivious to Loki’s presence.

As he prepares to move, Loki cannot fail to notice that once again, even engulfed deep in the sphere of the Guardians’ influence, Odin’s illusion holds true. Loki can look down and see himself, even as he remains hidden from the view of others, and as he expected his flesh holds no hint of Jotun cyan.

Is it because he has been wearing this illusion so long that it takes negligible power to maintain it? So little power that the Guardians consider it beneath their notice? 

He wishes there was some way to be certain, and to know whether this selective blindness may extend to the Casket itself. His plan involves using the heart-star to activate and perhaps power the Casket if necessary, but there had not been time to fully test the limits of that duet. 

Far too many uncertainties and he has ever preferred to exert control when and where he can. Through the years, he has always been careful to craft his schemes so that the outcomes will go his way. Even his first ploy against Thanos had been laced with many possible ways out: the Avengers, Selvig’s failsafe on the portal, other back-up plans that he had not needed to employ in the end.

It is not so here; there are few options. But there is nothing else Loki can do except press on, and pray that there will be as few Guardians and Chitauri to deal with as there were in The Other’s stronghold. 

For now Loki must rely on this Midgardian alternative source for his magic, and on the not inconsiderable force of his hate.

_ As for  _ after _-_

_ No. Focus. Act now, in case Thanos indeed knows you are here.  _ He quickly draws more power from the heart-star, sending it out in a thin sprawling web to search for Jane’s torc.

*  *  * 

The room the Chitauri drag Jane to would have completely taken her breath away if she was not already breathless with terror. Her mouth is bone-dry, her heart drumming in her chest so loud she’s sure they all will notice it.

It must have been an observatory, at least before Thanos conquered Asgard. The ceiling is high, a dome made entirely of clear glass (or the Asgardian equivalent), though it’s now marred in places with cracks and several large jagged holes.

The sky beyond the dome is breath-taking, beautiful and wonderful enough to impress itself upon Jane despite the terror of the situation. It is somehow daytime and nighttime at the same time, with grey-blue sky and dark clouds all around the edges of Asgard, and in the center, directly above the dome, it shades into velvet-black sky strewn with stars. More stars in more hues than Jane has ever seen before, in bright constellations she’s never seen, and an astonishing number of nebulae of various sizes, shapes and colours. 

Even to someone who loves the skies as Jane does, however, there’s also something terrible in that sky. It stretches indifferently above them all, unchanging and uncaring. The stars shine on, indifferent to the stench of smoke that fills Jane’s lungs and head with every shaky breath, and to the terrible things she saw on her way up. The ruined rooms, the bloodied corpses. Some of them were already hacked to pieces, as if Thanos has already begun his study of Asgardian physiology.

Jane badly wants to throw up, but she clenches her teeth hard and quickly looks around the room. What she’s looking for she doesn’t know, but the more ‘data’ she can gather, the better. It’s what she does, and she needs that to help hold the fear at bay.

There are cushioned benches of ornately carved wood lining the walls, though Jane has trouble imagining that people once reclined there to admire the heavens. Now most of them are covered with machines of some kind, flickering and whirring and beeping softly. Other benches have been overturned and pushed into splintered piles, or have guns piled on them, or the occasional group of bickering Chitauri. There’s a few other creatures in here as well, though Jane is dragged past them too quickly to study them closely.

They pull her to the middle of the room, where a semicircle of blinking machines has been set up. In the center is a metal chair that looks like a throne to Jane, and standing beside it a tall, broad figure with his back to them, wearing a helmet and metal armour of gold chased with silver. 

Her ‘escort’ stops at last just at the rim of the semicircle. They bow, wrenching Jane down onto her knees with them, then rasp-hiss something, and the man – beast, alien, thing, _whatever_ – turns to them.

Jane looks up at him. _This has to be Thanos_. He smiles, though there’s nothing kind or gentle about it, and a thin ribbon of fear braids itself up Jane’s spine.

She had promised herself as she was being towed up here that she refused to be cowed by the beast that hurt Loki. Now she thinks that might be an impossible task.

The looming figure steps towards them, motioning for the Chitauri to rise. They do, yanking Jane with them. Even though she’s sure it’s a really really bad idea, she can’t help but stare, her pulse pounding in her ears. He’s _purple_ , for God’s sake, his eyes a brilliant shade of blue, and those gleaming white teeth are like the world’s largest and most menacing Chiclets.

She remembers the story of what Thanos did to Loki when they first met, with Thanos reading Loki’s mind, peeling it apart to look inside. _God, please don’t let him do that to me, I don’t think I can handle it, oh God please-_

“So, this is the Betrayer’s consort. A surprising choice for a warrior like our Betrayer; you are so small and _weak_. Not much of a threat to beings like us, when you are without any of your Midgardian weaponry,” Thanos drawls as he steps closer. He has a deep voice that seems to echo and ring in Jane’s head until she wants to cover her ears and scream. But she can’t and won’t. The Chitauri are gripping her arms so hard she can barely feel her hands; even if they weren’t, she’s not going to give this planetary serial-killer, this _thing_ that satisfaction.

She sets her shaking teeth and says nothing. There’s also this: she’s _so fucking tired of bullies._ Her classmates in high school who thought it was just too much fun not to tease the little quiet mouse of a girl. Her ‘peers’ in academia who had thought her Einstein-Rosen theories were a sign she had pub-crawled one too many times as a grad student. Her mother, trying to force Jane to give up her own life so that Mom would be able to use her as a crutch. The Other, victimizing innocent Jane just to get to Loki. Even Fury, with his fucking carrot-and-stick approach, dangling money and support while first holding the Tesseract out of her reach, and then letting her complete the portal but forcing her to do it his way, on his timetable and agenda. 

And now _this_. 

Anger, late to the party but not any less strong for it, drives Jane to squeeze her numb hands into fists as Thanos sidles closer, still grinning.

“So ironic,” Thanos muses aloud, and Jane’s eyes are drawn for the first time to the glove on his right hand. It’s huge, easily three times the size of Jane’s own hand, golden and gleaming, but her attention is fixed on what’s hovering above the glove, following it as if linked by an unseen leash: a glowing cube of blue light. 

“Yes, this is the Tesseract. You have never seen it, have you, human? Your kings kept it from you.” Thanos makes what Jane only assumes to be a giggling sound, his grin widening to an unnatural extent.

Her rage goes up another notch. The bastard is laughing at _her_. “I still managed to make it here without it,” Jane retorts, her voice dry and rusty in her ears. _He’s going to torture and probably kill me anyway. Maybe if he thinks I can be useful somehow, it’ll buy me some time,_ some distant, logical part of her brain chimes in.

Thanos tilts his head towards her in a gesture which is almost respectful, and Jane realizes his eyes are exactly the same shade as the Tesseract. “Indeed. No mean feat, for a species as poorly evolved as yours.”

“You’re one to talk,” Jane spits back at him. “We may not have your technology, but even when we do – and one day we _will_ – we won’t go around killing and enslaving other planets to please ‘Death’ or any other fictional being.” 

Thanos laughs gleefully, resting his gauntleted hand on the edge of the bank of machines. “Oh,” he chortles, “I am going to have such _fun_ with you. Once your lover arrives, of course.” 

Despite her anger, Jane’s heart leaps back into her throat. “What?”

Thanos tilts his head, looking her over speculatively in a way which makes her throat go dry as the desert around Puente Antiguo. 

“You humans are so fragile. Why risk shortening my pleasure? Better to leave you whole, save our amusements for when the false Asgardian is here to properly appreciate your screams. The better to take our leisure, no?”

Jane locks her jaw against a moan of fear, searching for her anger again, but it seems to have deserted her.

He reaches towards her with his ungloved hand, and Jane recoils backward as much as the Chitauri will let her. That hand may only five fingers, but Jane remembers too well what happened the last time a different alien hand touched her.

But Thanos does not move from his position on the dais. “Fear not,” he says soothingly though Jane isn’t fooled, “The Other was a valuable soldier, but it lacked…finesse. Why risk the loss of your sanity at such an early juncture, when I have so many _other_ delights in store for you? For now, I merely wish to examine more closely the gift the Betrayer gave you.” He crooks a finger at her and Jane can feel the necklace shifting, the pressure increasing against the back of her neck as if some invisible force is _pulling_ on it. Her flesh crawls at the feeling.

“Ah yes,” he says as Jane cringes, “The Betrayer put many spells of protection into this little trinket, did he not? I recognize his signature. It is how I knew immediately who and what you were when I scanned your Earth some time ago, looking for him and you. How I have followed you these many weeks. And how I knew instantly, the moment when you tumbled through your Gate at my very feet.” He sneers. “Ironic, is it not, that the very means he thought would protect you from me, instead has served as a target around your slender throat?”

Jane’s breath catches in dismay. Not a false alarm after all.

“No doubt once he finds a means to get here, he will search for it and you. But I do so love the long game, so-” His finger beckons again. To Jane’s horror, she feels the necklace heating against her skin. Sweat breaks out over her whole body as the warmth increases.

_ It’s going to burn me-  _

Before Jane can scream, there’s a noise like a gunshot ringing in her ears, and a searing flash of green light that leaves purple imprints on her vision. The necklace loosens around her neck and then falls to the dirty floor, the once-beautiful snake shattered into blackened fragments.

_ My neck- _

As if reading her mind – and maybe he _can_ – Thanos nods at the Chitauri, and they release Jane’s arms. Her fingers immediately start to tingle painfully as the blood rushes back into them, but Jane ignores the discomfort in favour of trying to make sure her neck is OK.

It takes a second but as far as she can tell, she’s been left unharmed. She opens and closes her hands into fists, trying to drive out the last of the pins and needles, glaring at Thanos as he chuckles.

“There,” he says. Before Jane’s eyes the remains of the necklace spin as if being blown by a wind she can’t feel, and they rise into the air to dance their circle around Thanos’ gauntlet. “This is far more preferable. I have made sure it will not be easy for the Betrayer to find a way into Asgard, and it would be unfortunate to go to those lengths only to make it simple for him to find you.”

“Why?” Jane asks, uncomprehending.

Thanos laughs again and Jane’s bones tremble at the vibrations. “Why not?” he asks, in a creepy echo of Loki. “Because ‘processing’ a Realm can be such boring work. Because making Loki of Asgard suffer pleases me. Because the thought of him driven to frustration and panic, of him making futile plans, only to fail and to bear witness to your slow painful death, before he suffers one even _slower_ and more agonizing, will bring that much more delight to my Lady Death and I.”

“Screw you,” Jane snarls, all caution thrown to the winds in her fear and rage.

Thanos chuckles again and this time the entire room joins in, the Chitauri and other alien beings tittering, chittering, and uttering other noises that make Jane want to shrink into a little ball as much as she wants to yell “SHUT UP!”.

“I knew where the Liesmith was all along, you realize,” Thanos explains happily. “First Asgard, then Earth. But why rush, when I have eternity? I have the leisure to allow my enemies to grow complacent, to think themselves safe, and that is what your Loki has done. Had he been wiser, he would have taken you and run to the furthest universe from here that he could find…though of course that would only be delaying the inevitable.”

“You should take as much ease as you can, human,” Thanos continues with a growing smirk. “My Guardians blockade the star-paths and I have laid waste to your little toy Gate, so unless your lover is far more resourceful than I imagined, he will be kept away until _I_ see fit to take Earth for Her enjoyment. Once I locate him on Earth, then I will collect him and our games can begin, assuming the Liesmith has not broken and run by then like the craven all know him to be. But even in that event, I _will_ find him. This I promise you.”

Their audience laughs, but Jane has had enough of being intimidated. She waits until the room quiets, stoking her anger back into a red-hot blaze. “You’re wrong about Loki. He’s going to figure out a way to come get me, and when he does, he’s going to _kill_ you.”

They all laugh again, and Jane squeezes her hands until her nails dig into her palms. 

“I look forward to seeing him try, little human,” Thanos responds with an obscenely broad grin. “I do so enjoy these diversions.”

Jane maintains her fierce glare, doing her best to conceal her uncertainty and fear. But she can’t hide it entirely from herself. _Loki will come. He will._

_ He  _ has _to._

*  *  *

Nothing. 

Loki frowns, trying harder, pushing the threads of magic further to encompass all of Asgard, but he cannot sense her. With the magics he set on her torc, he should be able to locate her easily, but try as he might, after long minutes Loki’s failure is bitter on his tongue. _By Yggdrasil…_

He does not know if it is because Thanos has found a way to cloak her presence, nor whether it has anything to do with the unfamiliarity Loki has regarding the heart-star’s energies, but he is not sure how to proceed.

Another heart-stopping doubt occurs to him: Is she even still on Asgard? Has Thanos removed her already to his star-fortress?

Worse: _Maybe she was never here at all. It is all a ruse. Her portal was redirected, to Jotunheim or Muspelheim or some other equally inhabitable place – for a mortal – and she is already dead. Or the portal opened in the depths of space, and she fell as I feared, her body frozen solid or burned to a cinder in fractions of a moment-_

No, he cannot entertain such notions. He must believe that she is here, and whole, and that he has a chance of rescuing her.

But first, he must discover some means of finding her.

He supposes the dungeons are as good a place to start as any. Again he cups a hand around the heart-star and spools its power into his palm, then magicks himself into the Palace. 

There are several dungeons in the Palace. For common Asgardians who pose little threat there are non-magical cells lined with bars of stone or metal. For creatures who are regarded as powerful or dangerous there are the cells lined with screens of energy. Finally, for prisoners deemed of singular threat – like himself – there are several cells lined with both metal bars and Odin’s most powerful magics in the most isolated area of the Palace. He checks those cells first.

The cell he once laid waste to with his Jotun abilities has not even been rebuilt yet, it seems. And the other three are all empty. There are not even guards to be seen.

Loki magicks himself next to the conventional cells, but they too lie empty.

Finally, in the last block of cells, he finds something. A single cell is occupied, though the screen of energy is the blue of the Tesseract, not the golden hue of bespelled machinery that usually generates it.

In the cell are Frigga and Odin.

Loki, still hidden from view, considers his options. Jane is nowhere in sight, and he cannot decide for a moment whether to reveal himself and free his… _these people_. They seem relatively unharmed for the moment, and if freed, perhaps they will only be recaptured in any case.

His musings are not helped by the fact that he recognizes that if it were Frigga alone in the cell, he would not be having this internal debate. Or Heimdall or the Warriors Three, but they do not seem to be here – perhaps they too are being held and perhaps tortured in the Great Hall – at least their skills would be useful.

Then he reminds himself that so long as the Guardians remain active, the skills of Frigga, Heimdall and others will be greatly reduced. Odin’s too, if he deigns to rally his energies. 

Perhaps it would be better to leave them here.

But even as he thinks this, his feet carry him forward to the edge of the cell. His senses extend to search the prison wing for any other sign of life, but there is none. 

His un-parents are sitting at opposite ends of the cell, Frigga’s expression deeply worried while Odin’s is ill-tempered. Her hands are white-knuckled in her lap, and somehow it is this which decides Loki. Of them all, Frigga was always kindest to him, and if he can spare her any measure of suffering at Thanos’ hands, he will do it.

Reaching for the threads of energy, he parts them to reveal himself. Frigga glances up and sees him there, her eyes widening. “Loki!” she says in a loud whisper.

From the corner of his eye Loki detects Odin’s head snapping up, but Loki chooses to ignore him entirely. He has little use for this being who has no use for him, except as a tool to serve his own ends.

But Loki does feel less animosity towards the woman who raised him, so he answers her with: “Mother. Are you well?” She moves quickly towards him, her gait off, but as far as Loki can discern, she is in far better shape than his not-brother.

She presses both hands to the screen of energy between them, her eyes dropping to the heart-star on Loki’s chest for a moment. “We are, for now, but I do not know about the rest-“

“Thor told me,” Loki explains quickly. “Jane built a Bifröst and used it to come here, and Thanos grabbed her, then he pushed Thor through ‘in exchange’, or so that abomination put it.”

Tears rim the bottoms of Frigga’s eyes. “Is Thor-?”

“Injured badly, but he will live,” Loki assures her though he has to fight down a wave of irrational jealousy. _Even now, when I stand ready to rescue her, she asks about Thor._

Then again, Frigga is doubtless already aware of the plight of Heimdall, the Warriors Three, and Sif, all still on ‘display’ in the Great Hall as Thor himself had recently been.

“And you, my son. Are you well?” she asks, her eyes straying again to the heart-star.

“Well enough,” he lies. “But there is little time. Stand back from the wall.”

Frigga does as he ordered, though Odin makes no move to do the same. Loki cares not. He places a hand over the heart-star once more, breathing deeply and gathering the energy. He could blow the screen to fragments, but he worries that Thanos will sense it. Instead, he works to unweave the screen, stretching it apart just enough that Frigga and Odin can slip through, before Loki allows the screen to resume its usual shape.

Frigga raises a hand, motioning, but nothing happens. “Thanos has a way to suppress magic,” Loki tells her. “No one on Asgard will be able to use their powers until his Guardians are destroyed.”

“Then how did you set us free?” she queries. “Is it that stone you wear?”

“A source of power from Midgard,” Loki agrees. “It is what allowed me to get into Asgard, and yes, to free you. It is what I will use to facilitate my tasks here.”

“Do you need your father and me to fight?” Frigga asks, and Loki must tighten his jaw against a vociferous denial of Odin’s parentage.

“No Mother, I need you to hide, at least until the Guardian is destroyed. Once it is, there is a pathway you can take to get to Midgard-“

“Frigga and I are not cowards,” growls Odin at last. “We will fight!”

Loki looks Odin over with disdain. “Two of you against countless Chitauri hordes, and with not a speck of magic between you? And you accuse _me_ of arrogance!”

“No,” Loki continues, “until the Guardians are dead, you _will_ hide. The secret, hidden pathways in the castle will shelter you until that is done. But first I have another task I must attend to.”

“The mortal,” Frigga says, and it is not a question.

Loki reaches to grip her arms, fighting to hold a surge of panic at bay. “Jane Foster. Do you know of her?”

“These creatures put her in the cell next to us for a short time,” Frigga tells him, motioning with her head. “But they took her away some hours ago.” She pauses, her expression full of pain for him. “To Thanos, I think.”

Loki releases Frigga with a muttered curse. Of course, the Universe would see to it that the confrontation would not be avoided.

“I will free Jane, and then I will kill the Guardians. And we will take back our Realm. This I promise you, Mother.”

“You expect us to cower in the passageways while our people suffer?” Odin snarls. 

Loki barks a bitter laugh. “I expect you will do whatever you please, as you _always_ do. If you wish to attempt to re-take the Great Hall and free the others there all by yourself, without any defensive magics of any kind, you have my blessing to die in the attempt.” 

“Stop, both of you!” Frigga scolds. She seizes Odin by the arm, silencing him with a glare. “We will wait until our powers return, and then we will come to your aid. Thanos left Gungnir in the Vault, we can use it to awaken the Destroyer and set it on these foul creatures.”

Despite his anxiety, Loki has to grin at the image of the sweet chaos the Destroyer will wreak on the Chitauri. “A fine plan, Mother. Except, I have a better one.”

Odin opens his mouth, to argue no doubt, but Loki has already pulled the energies he requires from the heart-star, cloaking himself from sight once more and magicking himself into the Vault. 

As it happens, Loki has no need to cloak himself. The fools have set guards outside four deep, but none at all in the Vault itself. 

Even more foolish, that Thanos had not thought Gungnir worth taking for himself, but so much the better for them. Loki collects Gungnir from the floor, a brief unpleasant memory overtaking him as his hand closes on the staff for the first time since he released it to fall into the space between Realms. 

A terrible decision, and yet…he would not have met Jane had that never taken place. 

_ A lovely rationalization, but this is not the time. And should Jane die… _

He leaves that idea stillborn and with another twist of the star’s energies, he is back before Frigga and Odin. Wordlessly, he holds Gungnir out – to Frigga.

Loki knows that Frigga can feel the change in Gungnir. Until the Guardians die, it is little more than a long, highly ornamented piece of metal. Quickly he explains his scheme to her, ignoring Odin’s reactions. Anger, disbelief, disdain. 

_ It matters not what Odin thinks. _ _It will work, because it_ must. _For Jane and for Asgard._

Loki begins to step away, readying himself for the next parts of his plan, when Odin chooses to launch another strike on him: “So Thanos and his ilk turn out to be real. I suppose you think this excuses your actions on Midgard when you served him.”

He sneers at the All-Father. “You persist in believing that it does it not? Well I suppose you have not tasted enough of Thanos’ particular brand of hospitality. He judged you too frail to bear it, no doubt.” Loki mocks. 

Frigga rolls her eyes and tries to edge herself between them, though Odin evades her.  

“And what of your attempt to set Laufey to murder me? To kill Thor with the Destroyer? And of course turning the Bifröst on Jotunheim? Even a liar as accomplished as you cannot attempt to employ Thanos as your excuse for _those_ acts.”

Frigga opens her mouth but Loki beats her to the punch: “Your timing leaves much to be desired, as always. Just like your falling into the Sleep when I needed to hear the truth at last. Perhaps you should do all a favour and seek the Sleep again, right now?” He hisses the last words, rage twisting his features.

“Enough!” Frigga growls, “There will be plenty of leisure for argument once Asgard is freed.”

Loki takes control of his temper with a great effort, because of course Frigga is quite correct. He turns his back on Odin’s seething features and Frigga’s determined expression. Weaving his cloak of invisibility tightly around himself, he walks out of the dungeons and towards the stairs that lead up into the Palace. 

He could magick himself around the Palace, of course, but while it will be quicker, he knows that he has a finite amount of energy in the heart-star. He must conserve all he can for the confrontation it seems he will not be able to avoid. Masking himself from sight and sneaking through the castle by stealth is the more frugal option. 

Locating Jane remains his top priority, so once he reaches the top of the prison stairs – also, strangely, unguarded – he reaches out with his awareness, fuelled by the heart-star, searching for the place where the signature of the Tesseract is strongest. That is where he will find Thanos, and where Thanos is, Jane is likely to be.

His hands tremble, and he closes them into taut fists. Fear will not aid him in besting Thanos. 

_ There. _ The Tesseract’s signature is strongest in the observatory. That is surely where Thanos is. 

But as much as he feels the need to hurry, to see Jane and ensure that she is whole, the fear he tries to deny claws at his guts. He does not want to face Thanos, even though he knows he must.

Even though he suspects he already knows he can do nothing, he extends his senses into the castle again, searching for the room where the Guardians are. He knows the feeling associated with them, a sensation as if all the power in Asgard is pooling there and draining away, and he lopes quickly, silently, up two more flights of stairs.

He catches his breath in dismay as he emerges at the entrance to the main feasting hall. The Other had possessed only one Guardian, but within the hall Loki counts at least ten of them, and at least two hordes of Chitauri to guard them. Naturally it would take so many to keep down the magics of an entire Realm, even a small one like Asgard. 

There is no way he can shut them down rapidly by himself. Even cloaked, even if he casts doubles, even if he manages to kill every last Chitauri guard, it will not be quick to destroy every last Guardian, not if he must once again stab each one through the main eye in order to do so.  

It is too great a risk. He needs to strike from the shadows, to catch Thanos by surprise, lest he use Jane as a weapon against Loki. The longer it takes to kill the guards and the Guardians, the higher the risk Thanos will learn of Loki’s presence, and the greater the danger to Jane.

Just as when Loki battled The Other, he requires a diversion. Even though he expected as much, unease roils in his belly. He would have preferred to face Thanos without his own powers being chained, but…

Drawing another measure of power from the heart-star, Loki casts two quick spells, setting them by the entrance to the feasting hall, and then he sweeps away from the room, back to the stairwell, though he can feel tremors trying to worm there way up his spine.

If he runs, he is certain Jane and Asgard will die. As much as the notion pours the cold waters of terror over him, he knows the time has come to face his nightmare.

*  *  *

It’s a struggle for Jane to stay on her feet. Thanos moves around the room, issuing orders in a guttural language that means nothing to her, when he is not studying the readouts of various screens. All the while, her Chitauri guards drag her after him, staying a step or two behind him in a grotesque parody of a retinue.

She’s exhausted, and her stomach is growling, and anxiety continues to gnaw holes in her. Her eyes keep returning to the shards of the necklace, left littering the floor. 

Loki has to come. Jane can’t stand the thought that he won’t, even as she recognizes how afraid he is of Thanos.

_ He’ll get help from someone, like he did before, _ she tells herself. She passes the slow torment of aching muscles, hands numbed by the crushing grip of the Chitauri, and the increasingly acid hunger pangs in her stomach by fantasizing about Loki breaking in here, daggers flying everywhere, with Thor on his heels, hammer connecting with Chitauri bodies in a ringing clang.

Or Loki and Tony, exchanging insults even as they cause mayhem among the alien ranks. 

But when something finally happens, it takes Jane a moment to even figure out that anything has changed. A silence falls over the room, then Thanos speaks harshly to a group of Chitauri, who bow to him and then exit swiftly. 

“It seems someone is trying to retake Asgard,” Thanos rumbles, coming over to stand right in front of her, and Jane glares up at him while trying to reawaken the spark of hope in her heart. “But do not fear, little human. We are quite safe here. They are attempting to destroy my Guardians, but they do not realize that I have more than enough power to halt their efforts.” He holds up the metal glove, and Jane’s eyes are unwillingly drawn to the gently twirling Tesseract.

Thanos grins unpleasantly, motioning to Jane’s captors to stay put, his eyes alight with malicious glee. 

Jane can feel the hackles rising on the back of her neck. It’s like the time when Thor and Loki were fighting behind her trailer; she can _feel_ the magic in the air, but she doesn’t know who or what is causing it. _Is it just Thanos or one of his allies?_ she wonders, _or is it Loki? Please-_

What happens next occurs so quickly that at first Jane has no idea what’s happened. Thanos half-turns from Jane towards the empty space immediately in front of their little group, and makes a motion with his Gauntleted hand as if he is trying to pull something free from mid-air.

The air ripples before Jane’s eyes, seething with the blue energy of the Tesseract, and then a dark shape materializes. The storm of light pulses as Thanos gestures again and the shape, netted by the energy, is literally hurled across the room and into the curved wall.

The dark form rolls up onto its knees and Jane realizes that it’s _Loki._

He’s not looking at her. His teeth are bared in a grimace as the writhing bands of Tesseract energy around him fade, releasing his limbs. One point of blue-white light doesn’t disappear with them; still kneeling, his hands move to cup around a swirl of the same light hovering at his chest. 

Loki makes a practiced swirling motion with his hands that is familiar to her, but something Jane has never seen before materializes between his palms. It looks like a glass box filled with swirling cyan light.

He starts to raise it, concentration etched into his face-

Loki is fast, but to Jane’s horror, Thanos is faster.

Thanos raises the Gauntlet and the little box is wrenched from Loki’s hand to slam heavily onto the floor with a ringing thud. With a negligent flip of his fingers Thanos shoves it along the marble until it disappears into one of the tumbled piles of splintered benches at the opposite end of the room, a spray of wood chips concealing its final resting place.

Loki rolls lightning-quick to his feet, his expression contorted into a snarl, but even as green light gathers around his hands Thanos motions again, this time making a pushing motion towards Loki.

Jane can’t bite back her scream as the Tesseract energy plows into Loki, sending him sailing into the bank of machines at the center of the room.

When Loki rolls over groaning, slowly raising his head from the floor, there’s a bloody gash across one temple and he looks dazed. Jane bites her lip hard, twisting fruitlessly at the alien hands still holding her, but she may as well be trying to push a cliff-face.

Thanos’ nasty laughter fills the ravaged room. “We meet again, Loki the Betrayer.” Thanos motions again with the Gauntlet, more lazily this time, and Loki is dragged up into the air as if towed by many invisible hands. Thanos makes another motion and Loki flies into the nearest wall once more, his head impacting hard against a window, which cracks under the assault. 

Loki’s shakes his head, shifting disheveled locks of hair out of his face, and his eyes meet Jane’s at last. There’s no sign of surrender in his gaze. Just rage and pain. Jane fights once more to get to him somehow, but the Chitauri won’t let her go. “Leave him alone, you bastard!” she screams at Thanos.

Grinning impishly, Thanos saunters over to lean against the wall next to Loki. He beckons to Jane’s guards to drag her closer as well, until she and they are standing only a few meters from Thanos and Loki.

Something is holding Loki in place, Jane realizes. She can see his arms and legs moving slightly and the strain in his face and neck, but he’s pinned to the wall like an insect.

“What, no begging for mercy for you or your consort, my little Liar?” Thanos remarks, his tone caressing, and Jane shivers.

Loki narrows darkened eyes at the towering figure. “I know your ways well. I shall not waste my breath.”

Thanos chortles. “’Know me well’? Not well enough, Betrayer. If that was the case, you would have known that I would _feel_ your presence the moment you set foot in Asgard. I sensed every step you took, every place you visited, every spell you cast. But it amused me to allow you those few brief moments of false hope.”

A growl curls Loki’s lip, his hands flexing, but that’s all he can do, and Jane can feel icy terror spreading in her gut.

“All your efforts were for naught, Asgardian. Your little diversion below, whether or not it even succeeds, will ultimately prove useless.” Thanos cocks his head as if he’s considering some important matter. “In fact, shall we begin your punishment now? Your friends’ efforts need not distract us, not when it will be so easy to blast them to dust with the Gauntlet should they even be able to breach this room.”

Thanos shifts fractionally closer to Loki with that terrible grin, raising the metal glove between them. “I must thank your father for keeping the Gauntlet and the Tesseract safe and in such close proximity to each other for my arrival…Oh, but he is not your father, is he? Which reminds me-”

Still grinning, Thanos points the Gauntlet at Loki. The Tesseract floats and spins, then shoots another web of light towards Loki. He flinches when it makes contact and Jane does too, her teeth nearly biting through her bottom lip as she contains another scream.

At first she doesn’t know what’s being done to him. Before her tear-filled eyes, a wave of change begins to creep over Loki’s features. His armour doesn’t alter at all, but his hands, his neck, his face, all slowly turn blue, and his eyes bleed gradually from green to red. 

_ Is it the Tesseract? Is that what’s turning him blue? _

“Bring her closer,” Thanos urges her captors gleefully. They do so, towing her near enough that she can easily see the little raised dots and ridges that now pattern Loki’s blue-toned skin. 

“See the creature that you have so willingly taken into your body,” Thanos taunts her.

Everything sideslips, and for a horrifying second Jane isn’t there at all; she’s back in the cramped, airless cell in The Other’s base, and Loki, his skin gleaming blue in the lights of the cell, is standing over her with his knives.

She can _feel_ him plunging the knife into her-

Something swims into the middle of her nightmarish vision. It’s Loki’s face, still blue, but with those new red eyes and alien ridges. He looks utterly horrified and ashamed, his features twisted in deep pain.

“No!” she shouts, and the vision, or hallucination, or whatever it was melts away. Loki’s face, blue and wrenched in mortification at her reaction, remains.

Her teeth are chattering. At first she thinks it’s from the terror of her vision, but then she realizes the truth. _It’s_ freezing _in here_ -

Jane’s eyes widen as she realizes the cold is coming from Loki. She figures it out at last. _That’s his real face._

_ And now he thinks _ _I think he’s a_ monster.

Jane opens her mouth to deny it, to apologize, but Loki, his face contorted so much that Jane is afraid his sanity has snapped, turns on his tormenter.

His left arm comes up, and before Jane’s eyes a long icicle forms around his forearm, then runs over and past his hand and fingers until he seems to have a sword of ice growing right out of his arm. In a snarling yell Loki swings the ice-sword towards Thanos.

But it hits something, a wall of energy that flickers into the visible spectrum long enough for Jane to see it deflect the sword. _Thanos’ force-field_ , Jane remembers Loki telling her about it.

Loki pulls the steaming sword back, his features still sharpened by hate, and Jane screams in rage and desperation, her vision blurring with tears. “No!” she shrieks, bucking and yanking and trying to free herself again, to run to Loki’s side. Anything so that he won’t die thinking that she loathes him for what he is-

Thanos chortles, his telekinesis pinning Loki’s arm back to the wall again. He’s still chuckling as he reaches to press a button on his breastplate. A low hum reaches Jane’s ears, and she sees the shell of energy flicker around him again before it goes out. 

“Like your fragile little human consort, you are no threat,” Thanos observes to Loki cockily, punctuating this statement by stepping in front of Loki and reaching with the Gauntlet to snap the icicle-sword off Loki’s hand.

Loki screams in pain as Thanos tosses the broken weapon carelessly to the floor. Hellish blue light streams around both of them, and Jane’s eyes water from the brightness.

It dies out abruptly, and Thanos turns to Jane, holding something in his Gauntleted hand. Jane recognizes it as one of Tony’s small arc-reactors, though it is sputtering now, dying slowly in Thanos’ grip.

Thanos’ delighted expression turns Jane’s blood to ice as he crushes the reactor in his glove, until it gives with an explosive bang and a sizzle. Heat slants across Jane’s face and body for a terrifying second, but the Tesseract gives a brief pulse and the energy collapses back into itself. 

Thanos tosses the smoking remains to the floor, stepping aside so Jane can’t avoid seeing Loki’s petrified expression. “I feel sorry for you, Jane of Earth. Your lover – if one could call this runt of a Frost Giant such – is far too weak to save you. He cannot even save himself nor free Asgard, let alone conquer Realms. Both of your fathers should have left you to die as a child, Jotun. I will remedy that, of course. In due time.”

Rage flares in Loki’s eyes and he glares up at Thanos, the words he spits out nearly incoherent. Jane can see the tears threatening to spill over the lids of those alien eyes, even as hers continue to blur her vision in and out. _Fight,_ she screams silently at him, at herself.

An explosion at the door of the observatory causes Jane to flinch. She turns to look over her shoulder and there’s a line of Chitauri stretched across the entrance, snarling and firing repeatedly into the hall beyond. As Jane watches several of them are hit simultaneously by pulses of white light, blowing them back into the room.

When Jane looks back at Thanos and Loki, the former chuckles and turns towards the doors. He says something in an alien language, his demeanor amused and unconcerned, though the remaining Chitauri and other aliens rush towards the doors, with the exception of the ones holding onto her.

Then the floor shudders hard beneath Jane’s feet, enough to cause one of her guards to stumble. An explosion, a _big_ one, somewhere in the Palace below them-  

Thanos inclines his heads towards Loki with false respect. “So, your friends have succeeded in destroying my Guardians after all. No matter. Let them free all of Asgard if they would. It will only be the sweeter to break their spirits once more, after your foolish allies die by my hand and my forces reclaim Asgard.”

Loki doesn’t answer, though green light begins to swirl between his fingers. Thanos laughs louder and motions with the Gauntlet, and the green energy is replaced by blue light, Loki cursing as it disperses his magic. Then he screams in pain as the Tesseract energy collapses into his hands, the scent of burnt flesh filling the room.

“You bastard!” Jane shrieks, though Thanos ignores her. His preferred target is in front of him.

“Attempting to use your magic, little Liar? A teleportation spell to gain freedom for yourself and your human whore? Oh no, Betrayer, you will not escape my revenge quite so easily.”

From the corner of her eye Jane glimpses frantic motion back at the doors of the room, and she can hear the Chitauri grunting and screaming, but this time she resists the urge to turn her head to see what’s going on. 

_ His force-field is down. He thinks whoever Loki brought isn’t a threat. _ Better distract him, let him focus on Loki and her. Maybe, just maybe, while he’s busy with them one of the good guys trying to get in here will get a good shot off, take Thanos down.

Thanos does continue to ignore the battle, even as the chaos spills deeper into the observatory. But it’s small comfort to Jane, watching in increasing terror as Loki’s body sags away from the wall. Thanos has released his mental hold on Loki, only to wrap his huge beefy hands around Loki’s blue throat. Then he _squeezes_.

“No! No! _No_!!!!” Jane is screaming again, twisting even more frantically than before as the Chitauri laugh at her. Her skin will tear to pieces before they’ll ever let go, but she can’t stop.

Loki gasps for air, and Thanos steps closer, moving so that he’s between Loki and Jane, and she can no longer see Loki’s face, 

She can somehow still hear Thanos’ low, purred promises over the din of battle at the doors, and it makes her skin crawl: “…am undecided as to whether I should sew your lips shut so you cannot express your pain, or whether I should leave you free to speak. Perhaps it would be more amusing to watch you uselessly try to comfort your consort as she screams for my mercy?”

The battle continues to rage, and she can make out alien screams and human shouts, metal clanging on metal and the unmistakable pop of bullets, but Jane can’t tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her.

“No, please!” Jane begs, her voice breaking, even though she knows it’s useless. This creature has no mercy in him. Is Loki even dead already? She can’t see him, there’s just Thanos’ broad, heavily armoured back filling her vision. _No, he won’t let Loki die that easily. This is just the appetizer,_ a voice whispers in her head, and it sounds terrifyingly like The Other. 

When Jane hears the first sound, it doesn’t truly register until she feels the vice-like grip on her left wrist go slack, the Chitauri beside her tumbling to the floor. It spasms wildly as a series of shocks of energy roll through it. Then it lies still, smoke issuing from its sparking joints, and that’s when Jane realizes there’s an arrow sticking out of the alien’s eye-socket.

She hears the sound again and now her other wrist is free, the second Chitauri dying as swiftly as the first one did.

Thanos glances back over his shoulder, first at Jane and her dead guards, and then at the carnage at the room’s entrance. A smirk crawls across his face, the disdain evident before he dismisses them all and returns to tormenting Loki. 

He seems to have no interest in Jane at all for the moment, so she takes a hurried second to get her bearings. When she scans the room it’s obvious that Agent Barton is the one who just freed her. When their eyes meet he motions to her to get under cover even as he nimbly dodges a blast from a Chitauri weapon, nocking another arrow and firing at an approaching enemy. It’s very nearly all in one impressive maneuver, and though that alien dies, three more Chitauri advance on him as Jane watches helplessly, paralyzed by fear and indecision. 

Other people are spilling through the doors now, pushing back the thinning ranks of Chitauri, and Jane catches glimpses of armour similar to that of Thor and Loki, and also the red-and-gold of Tony’s suit, Romanoff’s black cat-suit, and another suit of blue with a star on the man’s forehead – _That’s Captain America._

That’s all she has time to see before her eyes are drawn inexorably back to Thanos and Loki.  

_ Run, Jane. Hide, damn you.  _

No, she can’t leave Loki. She has to do something, _anything_ -

If Thanos noticed her guards have died, he doesn’t seem to care. His towering bulk is still blocking her view of Loki, but she can still hear the ugly sounds of choking and gagging, and of Thanos continuing to whisper terrible promises in that nauseatingly gleeful way.

Her only possible weapon is the broken icicle sword lying at her feet, wisps of steam rising from its sharp edges.

_ He’s got armour but his damned force-field is still down. Maybe I have a shot here. _ She has no illusions about killing him outright, but if she can just injure him, maybe it will be enough.

Jane kneels down quickly, biting her lip again as her tired legs ache and threaten to collapse under her. Pins and needles are still pulsing through her hands, and she flexes them over and over until she can feel them _just_ enough to-

She hisses, dropping the sword. _My God, it’s so fucking_ cold _._

_ No, I can’t give up!  _ As rapidly as she can, Jane hunches her shoulders and pulls the long sleeves of her shirt down as far as they will go, covering the palms and about half of her fingers. 

She grabs the sword in both hands. It’s heavy and the cold bites through her shirt as if it’s not even there, but Jane sucks in a deep, pained breath through gritted teeth and forces her fingers to close tighter on it, dragging it up with her as she stands so only the tip is still resting on the floor. Her neck hackles, but when she risks a glance up – surely Thanos has noticed what she’s up to by now? - by some miracle his attention is still on Loki. _Arrogant, cocky bastard._

Mercifully it takes only two long steps to reach Thanos’ wide back, and Jane takes them, sucking in a rasping breath as she raises the ice-sword as high above her head as she can. Her yell of rage and effort is almost lost in the din, but not entirely, and even as she shoves the sword down, Thanos starts to turn-

The ice punches into Thanos’ back, driven down with all the power of Jane’s terror and rage. She’s too filled with hate to feel sickened by the sensation of flesh giving way. “That’s for hurting Loki, _and_ for New York!” she shrieks.

Then Jane utters another scream, this one fuelled by the burning agony of her hands. Frantically she tries to let go of the sword but her hands are stuck to the ice like they’ve been Crazy-Glued. Panting against the growing pain she yanks _hard_ , trying to ignore the horrible feeling of her skin tearing, and Jane forces herself not to look at her hands, and not to think about the damage. 

It can’t be any worse than the tortures Thanos had planned to put her through.

_ Thanos- _

She backs hastily away, her eyes focusing on the blackened floor in front of her so that she won’t have to see her hands, nor Thanos approaching as he bears down on her to exact revenge for her bravado…

Her poor hands refuse to be completely ignored. They’re burning, frostbitten, and Jane whimpers at the agony as she holds them to her chest, still not daring to look up.

But Thanos does not attack her, and when Jane finally dares to look up again, the sword is still there, sticking out of the middle of his back. Steam is rising from its length, and particularly from where black blood is pouring from the wound. The blade itself has been driven into him by nearly half its length, and Jane blinks in surprise. _I did that?_

As she watches, Thanos collapses slowly forward, his body still. His hands splay out, unmoving, and the Gauntlet scrapes against the floor, the Tesseract tumbling free.

_ He’s dead. I killed him.  _

_ Holy…crap. _

Then: _He’s on top of Loki._

“Oh _shit_. Loki? Loki, are you OK?” she babbles as she scrambles to Thanos’ other side, away from the smoking Tesseract, to look down at Loki. 

He’s still coloured blue, his neck mottled with purple bruises, and he’s panting for breath, but those red eyes are looking up at her with a mixture of surprise and relief. “Did...did you just _kill_ -?”

“Yeah. I guess?” She weaves a little on her feet, feeling dazed, though that doesn’t stop her from daring to kick Thanos in the side (carefully, because she’s wearing sneakers and he’s still armoured). 

But Loki doesn’t look happy, and from the direction of his gaze, he’s looking at her hands. Jane still won’t let herself look at them, as if ignoring her hands will make the injury go away. But she just doesn’t want to deal with that right now. “Yeah, I used your ice-sword, or whatever it is. Ouch!”

An explosion causes them both to jump. It’s a reminder that the battle isn’t over yet. 

_ They could use Loki’s help _ , she realizes _._ She moves to try to push Thanos off him, but the huge metal-clad corpse is heavy and she doesn’t have the use of her hands. The only thing it does is force her to take a look at them at last, and she averts her eyes quickly. Her fingers, thumb, and the top half of her hands are dead white, except up to the second knuckle of each hand. Those parts are blackened as if by fire. _Oh shit, oh shit, don’t look. Let’s hope the Asgardian healers have a few_ _spells to deal with Frost Giant Frostbite._

But they need Loki, so she pushes her pain and her fears away and tries harder, thrusting against the corpse with her forearms.

“Damn!” she curses after a few more moments of fruitless effort. “Loki, can you wiggle out from unde-?”

“Jane!” Loki shouts, alarm in his voice. By reflex Jane looks at him, not understanding his horrified expression until it’s way too late.

Pain explodes through her left shoulder. When she looks down at it, she numbly realizes there’s about four inches of sharp metal blade sprouting from her chest. That, and a fountain of hot blood that is quickly soaking into her shirt.

“Oh,” she hears herself saying, her voice strangely detached as if it belongs to somebody else. “That’s not good.”

Jane is dimly aware of an alien death-rattle behind her – someone just took out the Chitauri that did this to her - as she rolls onto her side in bizarrely slow motion.

“Jane! No! _NOOOOO!_ ” Somewhere in the distance Loki is screaming, the anguish in the sound somehow reaching her despite the deep grey fog that is swallowing her up.

“S’okay,” she slurs through icy-cold lips. “Doesn’t hurt.” She supposes it should hurt, but it’s not. There’s just the cold and the numbness and the fog, getting stronger and deeper.

_ I guess this is what dying feels- _

*  *  *

Darkness. Cold. Pain too, but it’s far away, light-years distant from where she is.

It’s not quiet, however. Gunshots, the sizzle of energy weapons, sounds of explosions and screams. 

Somewhere, someone is cursing frantically, the syllables garbled as if they’re echoing down a tunnel to reach her.

Echoing. Far away.

But one sound is loudest of all, growing in intensity until it drowns everything else out, ringing in her ears. 

A scream, a wail of pain and loss and rage. 

The darkness goes white, burning through her like ice, the reverberating scream buffeting not just her ears, but now her eyes and mind-

_ JANE! _

The light bleeds to pale green, the sounds falling into a far-off mutter, and then to silence…

Silence. 

Peace.

Darkness.

*  *  *

Jane’s not sure when she realizes she’s awake. _Not dead?_

She’s tucked into a bed as far as she can tell. There’s flat softness under her and the thick softness of pillows behind her, and what feels like several sheets over her body.

Confused, she waits to open her eyes, taking stock of her body as best she can with her eyes closed. 

She has all her limbs, but her hands feel weird; itchy and hot, as if she’s wearing scratchy oven mitts.

Her shoulder- _I was stabbed, yes,_ \- when she turns her attention to it, it feels…totally fine.

_ What the hell happened? _

The room around her is quiet, the silence ringing in her ears after the cacophony of the battle. No wait, there’s the sound of someone breathing. Next to her bed.

Jane slowly opens her eyes, the room gradually coming into focus. She recognizes it first by the colours, and her initial identification is confirmed by the various pieces of furniture she remembers from the dream of Asgard Loki once spun for her. The long mirror in the corner, the tall windows with their heavy velvet drapes, the green and gold tones of every piece of furniture. Even the sheets around her echo that colour scheme, dark green edged with gold.

She cuts her eyes to her right, towards the sound of breathing, and there he is, slumped bonelessly in an ornate upholstered chair. His skin is pale again, the blue and the ridges gone. He’s not even wearing his armour; instead he’s wearing a woven green shirt and leather pants, his hair still in untidy waves over his forehead and around his cheekbones. The marks from Thanos’ fingers still ring his throat, but they already seem much paler than she remembers.

It takes her three tries to get her voice to sound louder than a dry croak. “Loki.”

His eyes snap open immediately and fix on her. Not red any more, but a stormy blue-green. “ _Jane_ ,” he replies, ragged and heavy with the emotions she can read in his face.

Jane barely has time to take another breath when Loki leans over the bed, hands plunging into her hair and kissing her so deeply her head spins. 

Something wet falls onto her cheeks, and when he moves back, there are definitely tear-tracks on his pale cheeks. Jane pretends not to notice as he dashes them away with the back of his sleeve like a little boy.

“I thought you were lost to me,” Loki says, his voice rough. _Was it him who was screaming?_

“What…what happened?” Jane asks, her own voice not much better than his.

Loki takes a deep breath, settling himself on the edge of the bed, the thick mattress barely dipping under his weight. His fingers grope for and wrap around her hand, and when she looks down, she can see there are linen bandages wrapped around her entire hand from wrist to fingertips.

Loki’s gaze hovers on her wounded hand as he explains: “The Chitauri did not take kindly to you killing their leader,” he says, a glimmer of a smirk on his lips. “One of them stabbed you through the heart. I could not get free in time to stop it from happening.” His head bows, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Not your fault,” Jane argues, pressing her bandaged hand up against his palm. It’s the closest she can come to a reassuring squeeze. 

“Perhaps,” is all he will concede, his eyes following her free hand as she raises it to touch her shoulder. Which is rather pointless, given it is also heavily bandaged. “Does your shoulder pain you?”

“No, not at all. Not even a bit. But my hands, however…” she grimaces, and Loki’s expression mirrors hers. “They itch.” She resists the urge to rub them against the bed.

“Jotun ice is colder than any ice you will find on Midgard. When you grasped my ice sword to kill Thanos, the cold bit into your flesh and damaged it. In truth, I do not know how you were able to even stand its bite long enough to attack Thanos; even Asgardians are swiftly wounded by the touch of a Jotun.” He shakes his head and gently strokes his fingertips along the outside surface of the bandages. “The healers have done their best, used their strongest healing salves and spells, but it will be many days before your hands are fully healed.”

Jane blinks up at Loki as the discussion reminds her of the obvious. She’s seen him, the real him. _And oh God, how I reacted-_

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

His eyes widen at her. “ _You_ are sorry? For what, little one?”

“When…when Thanos revealed what you really look like, I didn’t mean to react like that. Seeing your skin turn blue like that just triggered one of my hallucinations for a second. That’s all.” She’s happy her voice is firm as she says the last words, her eyes seeking his though he evades her, his gaze back on her hand.

“No apologies are required.” He answers her, though he says nothing else.

The silence is uncomfortable, so Jane doesn’t see much loss in asking the next obvious question. “I guess Odin’s illusion came back once Thanos was dead? You look like you usually do again.”

Loki shakes his head slowly, a line forming between his brows. “Yes and no. Odin’s illusion is no more; Thanos unraveled it completely with the Gauntlet. What you see now _I_ have created. I have worn this face and body long enough to produce an identical glamour easily enough.” He shrugs dismissively, though the tension remains in his shoulders.

Taking the hint, Jane turns to other topics, flexing her shoulder and looking down at it. As far as she can tell under the soft, off-white gown she’s wearing – much more comfortable than any hospital gown - there's no bandaging at all on her shoulder. “I don’t get it. My hands are a mess, but my shoulder – and heart, I guess - seems totally fine. Did the healers run out of magic healing potion or something?”

“Ah, no,” Loki says, and he seems embarrassed. “I…reacted rather violently to the attack on you. As did my magic. Your Avengers and the Einherjar had already laid waste to the Guardians, so my magic was free once more.” He pauses then, switching hands so he can reach the neck of the loose gown Jane is wearing.

His deft fingers make quick work of the lacings holding the front of the gown closed, and he pulls the fabric aside to show Jane her shoulder. Her eyes widen in surprise at the scar there. Straight as a ruler, puckered…and pale. It looks _years_ old.

She looks back up at Loki but he’s still looking at the scar, the pad of his thumb lightly tracing the line of it. “Apparently,” he continues softly, “I _can_ heal others…under extreme duress. But only,” he adds ruefully as he eyes her hands, “one wound at a time.”

Jane can’t repress a snort. “Well, if I had to pick, I’d say you healed the right wound. I’d rather be like this, even if I can tell my hands are going to be making be _miserable_ for the next few days, than have gorgeous hands but be…” She falters there, but her damnable curiosity drives her to finish. “Dead?”

Loki’s face is grim. “Close enough as to make no difference. But it matters not.” He hesitates, closing her gown back up for her and returning to laying his hands gently over her wrapped ones. “I feel that I am the one who owes you the apology, Jane.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “What? For saving me? For only healing half of me? I just told you, don’t worry-“

“No,” he interrupts. “The task of killing Thanos should not have fallen to you. Had I been stronger, stealthier…” Regret colours his words.

Jane puffs air out between her teeth. “Don’t be silly. You did your job. You distracted him so I could kick his ass,” she jokes.

A glimmer of a smile surfaces on his face. “As I have noted before, there is more than a touch of the warrior in you, Jane Foster of Midgard.”  

Jane remembers the first time he said it, mockingly, during their play session in his illusory forest, trying to escape him (except, not really) in the dark. But there’s no false admiration in his voice this time. 

“I always knew as much,” he adds, and Jane snorts, blushing again. 

“Warriors are brave,” she counters. “I wasn’t brave. Just pissed off as hell, and I wanted to stop him from hurting you. Or anyone else. We’re just lucky he was too stupid to realize I was a threat.”

_ If he hadn’t dropped that force-field- _

_ But he _ did, _and we’re both still here._

_ It’s over. _

It seems so hard to believe, that Jane has to repeat it out loud, wonderingly. “It’s over.”

Loki nods his agreement. “There will be much rebuilding to be done, and healing.” His eyes flicker away from hers again. “But yes, it seems the largest threat has been eliminated.” His hand gently presses hers, and he leans up so kiss her again, his touch more light and less hungry, searching. “Sleep now,” he urges her. 

“But-“

“There will be plenty of time to answer any questions you still have, but later. Your body requires sleep and healing. Take it. I assure you there is no longer any urgency.”

Jane tries to protest, but it’s true, she _is_ tired. Exhausted, actually. And at least she won’t be aware of her hands itching in her sleep!

She watches through half-lidded eyes as Loki settles back into his chair, hand cupping his chin.

_ He came for me. _

Jane allows the warmth of that thought to lead her back into sleep.

*  *  *

When Jane wakes again, the room is dim despite the amazingly bright stars gleaming in the sky outside. There’s only one wall sconce flickering with torchlight, and by its light Jane can just make out that Loki is dozing in the chair by her bed still.

Again he comes awake instantly when she speaks his name. “How are you faring?” he asks her.

“I feel much less tired,” she answers. “But my hands are _really_ itching, and I’m starving.”

“I will see to it,” Loki assures her. He unfolds himself from the chair, striding across the room to the tall wooden door inlaid with gold trim. Jane hears him speaking to someone outside in the hall in firm, commanding tones, and then he closes the door and returns to Jane’s side, helping her to sit up in bed. A wave of his hand, and the rest of the wall sconces flare alight, green flames turning to conventional orange-gold after a moment.

When a woman arrives with a tray of food – a leg of some kind of bird, a cup of dark fruity juice, a thick-cut piece of bread, and something that looks like a large green tomato - Jane blinks in surprise as Loki starts cutting it up into pieces for her.

At her look, Loki explains: “I have taken sole responsibility for your care and comfort.”

Jane can’t help chuckling. “ _The_ Norse God of Mischief is waiting hand and foot on a lowly mortal?”

Loki smirks, his voice smoother now when he answers: “No, the ‘Norse God of Mischief’ is waiting hand and foot on the Midgardian heroine who destroyed the terrible beast Thanos.”

Of course, this causes Jane to blush. Typical. “Well, you did help a _little_ ,” she teases.

The food is excellent but there’s way too much for Jane to eat in one sitting. She waves off the leftovers and Loki’s protests, at which point they’re interrupted by a booming knock at the door.

Loki rolls his eyes but looks to Jane for permission. At her nod, he calls: “Enter!”

A second later Jane’s bed is surrounded. There’s Thor, limping heavily as he leans on a tall, muscular man with blond hair, and Thor is bandaged even more than Jane is. There are agents Barton and Romanoff. The final man has dark hair and rimless glasses. Jane doesn’t recognize either him or the blond man Thor is using as a crutch, though she’d lay bets as to who they are.

And of course there’s Tony, self-importantly brushing past everyone else to hug her so hard her ribs ache. “You’re an _idiot_ , Foster,” he scolds. “You had Captain America, the Green Rage Monster, two master assassins, and of course, me in my amazing technological dream-coat, all ready to kick Thanos back to the universe from whence he came…and you decide to take him out _yourself_? Idiotic or ballsy, I’m still trying to figure out which.” 

Loki had melted off into the shadows at the side of the room as they had thronged her bed, his shoulders in a stiff line, but at this he steps forward again, anger flashing across his features. The blond man and the darker one look pretty shocked by Tony’s statement as well, but Jane has worked by Tony’s side long enough to hear what’s underneath his rude prattle.

“I won’t argue with either label,” Jane answers him quickly, looking reassuringly over at Loki, then at the circle of faces. “Maybe you should introduce me; I don’t actually know the whole team.”

Tony is quick to do so, introducing Dr. Banner and Steve Rogers – “You’ll forgive me if I don’t shake hands,” Jane has to smirk, and they all laugh, though the tight smile on Loki’s face makes her hurt inside for him.

They only stay for a few minutes. “Let’s give the lady some time to recover,” Tony says, taking charge in his usual brash way. “Besides, I think someone promised to introduce us to ten-thousand-year-aged Asgardian ale?”

“Mead,” corrects Thor. “And yes, I shall. But I wish to have a private word with Jane first.” Deliberately, he meets Loki’s gaze across the room. “Brother,” Thor continues, and even Jane isn’t deaf enough to miss the emphasis he puts on the word, “would you be so kind to show our friends to the Lesser Hall?”

Loki nods, the motion jerky, but he gestures for everyone to follow him without saying anything.

Jane waves a bandaged hand, watching them go and promising Tony she’ll be ‘joining the partying’ as soon as she feels up to it.

The door closes with a thud, and Jane turns to find Thor looking sorrowfully after them. She sighs. “Will he ever feel comfortable around them? Around _you_?” She knows Thor knows who she’s referring to.

“I pray that he does. I miss the brother I once knew. I hope with time, things may return to what they once were.” Thor says, then he smiles. “I am sure your involvement in his life will only help.”

Jane has to chuckle at that. “I hope so too, but he’s pretty stubborn!”

Thor’s smile broadens, though his eyes are troubled. “Indeed. He has ever been so.”

Jane lays her bandaged hand carefully across Thor’s. “And how are you? You look, well, _terrible_ , to be honest.”

“Healing. Thanos’ torturers are…inventive. I begin to understand more of what Loki suffered at their hands,” Thor replies, eyes briefly darkening. “But I live, and in time there will be no lasting effects. My sole regret was that I missed the bulk of the battle. Once the Hulk destroyed those accursed Guardians, I found the healers and they were able to pool enough of their remaining magic to allow me to heal somewhat. Enough to at least be able to swing Mjölnir and to fly. But I arrived at the observatory only just in time to see you felled by the Chitauri.” He looks down at the floor, blond eyelashes veiling his eyes.

“What did you see?” Jane asks, her curiosity piqued. Loki hasn’t really told her anything about what happened after she was stabbed.

“The blood was spilling very heavily from your wound. Hawkeye shot the Chitauri and killed it before it could try to harm you further, and Loki was… _screaming_ , near loud enough to shake the very windows from their casements…” Thor gazes past Jane out the windows, but she can tell he’s not seeing the room at all.

“I am not sure precisely what transpired, but there was a burst of bright light that cast Thanos’ corpse aside, and then Loki was kneeling over you, the light streaming from his hands into your wound. And then he fell beside you, as if in a deep sleep, and none could rouse him for hours. But you were…well, you were breathing once more.” His gaze returns to Jane, and he smiles warmly. “Mother was nearly beside herself until he woke; she feared that using so much of his power when he was already weakened had drained him too far to recover. But he is too stubborn to leave us yet.” Thor smirks. “After he woke his first acts were to set a new illusion over himself and then to come to you, and he has refused to leave your side since.”

Jane pauses, mulling all this over, wondering which question to ask first. She can only imagine how Loki must have felt, waking up to find himself wearing his true face.

There’s another rap at the door, but without waiting for an answer Loki strides back into the room with a redheaded woman in blue robes trailing in his wake. She startles Jane by giving her a little curtsey.

“Might we have a few more moments-“ Thor begins, but the harsh edge is back in Loki’s voice when he answers “No. Eir is here to see to Jane’s hands. Unless Odin intends to force all the mortal saviours of Asgard back to Midgard any instant now-“

“He does not,” Thor insists, irritated.

“Then you will have the leisure to speak with Jane later. For now, it is time to go.” Loki shoulders his way past Thor, then turns to glare at his adoptive brother until Thor raises his hands – one is bandaged nearly as heavily as Jane’s are – in surrender. “Very well, Loki.” A nod at Jane, and Thor leaves.

Loki nods at the healer, busying himself with something at a desk across the room as the woman deftly unwraps Jane’s bandages. Jane winces at the appearance of her hands. All that pink, puckered scarring, covering her fingers and half of her palms in a tight, inflexible glove. “It looks like a burn.” _Will I ever be able to use them properly again?_ She’s not sure she’s ready to hear the answer if it’s no. Then again, she is in the home of supposed _gods_ -

“That’s because it is,” the woman – Eir – agrees, though she does not think this is as horrible as Jane does, judging by her calm response. “Fire and ice both can burn. But fear not, it should take no more than a sevenday for them to heal completely. Were you Asgardian, it would be faster, but such are the differences between us and mortals.”

She reaches into a small clay pot and smoothes a clear gel from it onto Jane’s wounds, and Jane sighs in relief as the terrible itching sensation fades to almost nothing. “Better? I will leave a pot of this by your bedside. It should not be used constantly as the spell that removes the itch slows healing, but using it once or twice per day will do no harm.”

“Thank you,” Jane says, and Eir smiles warmly at her. 

“I am honoured to be of service to you,” she says, and then she sets a pile of clean bandages on the bed next to Jane. “My Lord?” she asks, looking expectantly at Loki.

“Yes, I will see to her wrappings. Go, Eir, with my thanks.”

“In but a moment,” the woman answers. She reaches towards the neck of Jane’s gown. “May I, my lady?” she asks. Jane is puzzled but not unwilling, so she nods her permission.

Eir pulls back the side of the gown to study the neat scar. “It will be permanent, I fear. Again, mortal flesh is not the same as Asgardian. But your prince did a fine job of minimizing the appearance.” She smiles at Loki, and Jane could swear his cheeks are colouring as he glances almost shyly away. It’s hard to tell in the torchlight.

The healer sees herself out, and before the door has even closed Loki is sitting next to Jane, reaching for the nearest bandage. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about seeing to my needs,” Jane observes.

The side of his mouth quirks. “Eir is strong, and skilled at keeping her spirits up at the most trying of times, but alas there are many in need of the healers’ skills after such a battle as Asgard has waged. There are others in greater need of her skills, and I am well able to wind bandages.” Within minutes, he is finished. “Not too tight?” he asks her.

“They’re fine, thanks.” Jane hesitates. “Loki, will you tell me the whole story about, well, everything? I don’t even really know what happened, how you managed to get here from Earth. Thanos told me he wanted to make it as difficult as possible for you to save me. He wanted to break your spirit.”

“I-“ Yet another knock at the door interrupts him _. It’s like Grand Central Station in here,_ Jane thinks.  “I will,” he promises. “But first- Enter!” he calls.

Jane has no problem recognizing this visitor, though as soon as she opens her mouth to greet her, she realizes she has no idea how to address her. “My… _Queen_?”

Frigga smiles kindly, including her adopted son in that warmth. “I do not sit much on ceremony within my son’s chambers,” she answers, sinking into a chair on the other side of Jane’s bed. “Are you well, Jane Foster?”

Jane glances down at her hands. “Well enough, considering everything that’s happened. Are you OK, you and-?” But she stops, mindful of their audience and the strain between Loki and Odin.

“I will say the same. Well enough. Asgard is free again, but many died.” Her eyes darken, and Jane curses herself for reminding Frigga of the loss. “But Valhalla waits to honour them, and in time Asgard will be whole again. Perhaps even stronger than it was before.” Her eyes stray to Loki, and Jane’s pretty sure it’s not just Asgard Frigga is referring to. 

Frigga pats Jane’s wrist gently, then stands, shaking out her skirts. “The funeral for those who have died is tomorrow at Star-rise. All of Asgard would be honoured if the Midgardians who helped defend us were to stand witness.”

“Of course,” Jane says. She knows she can’t speak for Loki, but she hopes he’ll consider going if she plans to.

“And you all are also invited to the memorial feast before. If you require any help preparing, my maids are at your disposal.” This last comment seems to be aimed more at Loki than Jane. He inclines his head, but that’s all.

Frigga waits, but Loki does not rise nor look at her, and Jane bites her lip before she blurts out something about Loki being cruel to his mother. Frigga nods and smiles a little sadly at Jane, though she pauses before she opens the door. “It warms my heart to have you back with us, my son.”

Loki nods again, still saying nothing as Frigga leaves.

Jane shakes the restraint off at last. “Loki, don’t you think-“

“Should you like to bathe?” he interrupts, his tone mild though she knows exactly what he’s doing. That old evasion dance of his. She’s all too familiar with it, but since it doesn’t actually have to do with her, or with _them,_ she decides to let it go. “There is yet dried blood in your hair.”

She frowns as she tries to touch her hair to see how bad it is, then frowns as she remembers her hands. But she does feel a little sticky and sweaty, and she decides she’ll take his word on the blood. “I would, but how?” She holds up her hands.

He grins slowly at her. 

“Right, that’s your self-appointed task too.” She answers for him. She’s pretty sure she knows exactly how this is going to end up, too. “Should we lock the door?”

“No need. None will enter unless bade to.” He answers nonchalantly. He scoops her up easily and carries her to another wooden door to the left of the bed. “I’m pretty sure I can walk, you know,” she points out half-heartedly.

“No doubt, but this is more enjoyable,” he counters with another smirk. This close to him, Jane can see the ring of pale bruises around his neck.

“Are…are _you_ OK?” she asks, kicking herself for not thinking to ask about him sooner. 

He shrugs as best he can while still holding her. “Other than being almost strangled insensate by Thanos, I did not sustain any severe injuries. I have been healing the bruises, but my powers are far weaker than normal. I cast many magics over a short period since you were taken through the Bifröst by force, and I have yet to recover my full strength.”

“Thor told me you nearly died.” Jane says in a small voice.

Again, he shrugs as if it’s not important. “If I had, it would have been worth it, to save you.”

Jane buries her face in his chest and hugs him as best she can with no hands, her own tears starting at last. He stops, letting her feet slide to the floor, and just holds her for a time, and Jane’s not sure after awhile whether the dampness on his cheeks is hers or not.

“Ugh,” she remarks, spotting herself a short time later in a mirror. Red nose, red eyes, fantastic. So _not_ a good look for her. Loki dries his face on his sleeve as Jane turns to examine the small room.

It’s not what she expected. It’s small and also lit by torches, and there’s a low tub of dark gold metal only a little larger than the one in Jane’s apartment in the middle of the room. There’s the mirror and a basin of metal built into a stone outcropping from one wall, the same colour as the tub, and those are the main features. 

Loki reaches into the tub to uncover a hole in the bottom, and water spouts up from it, quickly filling the tub. He turns to Jane and helps her take off her gown, manipulating the three-quarter sleeves carefully off over each bandage. She’s got nothing on underneath, and his gaze smolders as he watches her, pulling his own shirt over his head.

When the water is half a foot from the top of the tub Loki reaches to slide the metal plate over the hole at the bottom, then reaches for Jane’s hand. She tests it with a toe, but pulls back hissing.

“Too hot?” he asks solicitously. 

“Yeah. I guess you warriors like your baths volcano-hot.” 

The side of his mouth turns up slightly. “It does soothe the muscles after a battle.” Loki drops a hand into the bath. It happens so quickly Jane isn’t sure she sees it or not, but she could swear his hand turns pale blue for a second, though the resulting steam impedes her view.

The mist clears and Loki invites her to try the water again, his hand back to normal – if it ever changed – and his expression bland.

It is just perfect, so she allows Loki to help her in. Naturally awkward already, Jane is even more so without the use of her hands. He settles her carefully in the tub, her arms resting on the sides, and he rolls a small soft towel to slip behind her neck, and then he kneels down next to her, reaching for a small bottle on a carved table next to the tub.

The soap he works into her hair smells both spicy and floral, and Jane relaxes as strong fingers massage it into her scalp. “So,” he begins, “the tale of your victory over Thanos.”

Jane opens her eyes and mouth, about to argue the point, but he persists. “I saw you go into your Bridge, though at first I did not realize you had been taken through against your will. Then Thanos spoke through the portal, and I knew.”

She bites her lip, reaching to rest one of her bandaged hands on his shoulder, wishing she could really _touch_ him. “I can’t imagine how you must have felt.”

Jane expects another evasion, but he seems to be speaking with perfect honesty when he answers: “Many things. Rage, fear. Helplessness. Not so different from when The Other took you from me, though admittedly this felt many times worse than that. Especially when Thanos pushed Thor through the portal onto Midgard, and I realized just how much higher the stakes were.”

Nodding, Jane supplies what Loki left unsaid: “Asgard.”

“Yes,” Loki agrees, finishing her hair. He reaches for a small bowl on a shelf on the carven table, using it to rinse out the soap.

“As you know,” he goes on, reaching for more soap and rubbing it into her arm just above where the bandages end, “Thanos did not make it easy for us to get here. His Guardians blocked the way, and your Bridge lay in ruins. After a regrettably long time I realized there was yet a third means to get here.”

He smirks slightly, pausing as if he is waiting to see if Jane will guess it. It does take her a few moments, until she remembers the arc-reactor he’d been wearing. “Tony’s tech.”

He nods. “Eventually I realized that was the key. And so it became the linchpin of my scheme.” His hands move to soaping her neck, and Jane closes her eyes again to relax better under his touch, his voice soothing despite the content of his words.

“Much as I would have preferred to be your sole saviour, I knew I was no match for Thanos on my own, especially with my magic chained. My favoured plan was one that I hoped would be of least risk to you; that I would magick you out of harm’s way if I could. Once I knew that would not be possible, I was forced to employ my alternate plan – the one that involved your Avengers.”

His hands slide down her sides and then along her belly, ticklish, and Jane squirms, though Loki keeps speaking calmly. “Stark allowed me the use of one of his most powerful yet smallest heart-stars. This enabled me to use the natural pathway to get here, and then to cloak myself. Then I set a spell that would bend the pathway and cause it to now deposit the Avengers outside the room where the Guardians resided. The Avengers would trigger the pathway and fuel it using the large heart-star in the base of Stark Tower – I believe you’ve seen that one before, have you not?” His hands slide sinuously over her skin, washing her back in soothing circles.

“Yes.”

“I made sure to trigger the pathway just before I attacked Thanos, so that he would have as little warning as possible, or so I hoped. I planned to distract him while they destroyed the Guardians and freed all magic in Asgard. Once that was done, not only would I have access to my own abilities, but Odin could use the Destroyer to free all those in the Great Hall-“ here his hands and voice falter, and Jane remembers the massive robot that nearly leveled Puente Antiguo, “-including Heimdall and the Warriors Three, as well as the Einherjar, the Palace Guard. They were to join the Avengers in attacking Thanos and his warriors in the observatory.” 

His hands are on her thighs now, rubbing the soap in. “Wait, didn’t Thor wreck the Destroyer back on Earth?”

“Yes,” Loki answers, breath ghosting over Jane’s damp cheek and shoulder. “But it has proven far faster to rebuild than the Bifröst.”

“And what was that thing you tried to attack Thanos with? That looked like a box made of glass.”

Loki is silent so long that Jane cracks her eyes open again. 

“The Casket of Ancient Winters,” he says slowly, reluctantly, his gaze bent on his hands as he gathers more soap, rubbing his palms together. “A weapon of great power that once belonged to the Jotuns. I’ve had it hidden in my pocket dimension for quite some time. I used it to kill The Other, as you may recall.”

Jane does, though of course he’d never shown it to her, or really described how it worked or what it was called. He’d just referred to a weapon that allowed him to freeze The Other, and that had been his entire explanation at the time.

“Too bad you didn’t really get to use it on Thanos,” Jane observes.

“It may not even have worked. His shield may have proven equal to the task. I did not know, but it was the strongest weapon I had at my disposal at the time. In truth, I was hoping that I would have an opportunity to lay hands on you and magick you away before Thanos even knew I was there, but even using the heart-star to source my magic, I could not maintain my cloak long enough to get to you before it unraveled and he saw me. He knew I was there from the instant I set foot in Asgard.” This last is a low frustrated growl, and Jane touches the bandaged tip of her hand lightly to his cheek.

“It’s OK, we’re OK. He’s dead, and we’re all still here,” she assures him.

But his eyes look haunted, dark, and Jane slides her wet arm around his neck. “Loki, what’s wrong?”

He raises his eyes hesitantly to hers. “Because Thanos was right. If I had been given the opportunity, I would have grabbed you and magicked us away. And then I would have run, would have gotten both you and I as far from here as I could. I would not have fought to free Asgard.”

Jane shakes her head and leans forward in the tub until they are nose-to-nose. “Number one, that asshole _tortured_ you. For months. I don’t think anyone would blame you for wanting to keep away from him. And number two, I think you’re wrong. I think once I was safe, you would’ve found a way to help. You’re selling yourself short.”

Loki says nothing, soapy hands tracing runes on Jane’s knee.

At least he’s not arguing the point with her. “You told me once I should have faith in you. Well, I do, and here it is. Now, tell me the rest of the story.” She insists, leaning back again and closing her eyes.

“You know most of it,” he continues after a brief moment. “Thanos knew I was there, knew I had freed Odin and Frigga and brought the Avengers to Asgard. But in his arrogance, he chose to torment you and I. I had left the words ‘observatory’ and Destroyer help Great Hall’ written on the wall outside the Guardian chamber so they would know where we were, and that there would be help to free the prisoners. I prayed they would arrive in time, and that Thanos would be engaged with them enough to release me from his power and I would be able to get you away.” He pauses again, and it’s only when Jane opens her eyes that he adds, smiling now: “It did not work out that way, but I will not say that I am displeased with the final outcome.”

“Once Thanos was defeated,” Loki continues, rubbing the soap between Jane’s toes as she tries not to giggle, “victory was assured. The Destroyer and Stark – he changed his armour in some fashion since the Battle of Manhattan, so it would function properly in another Realm, though I know not how – attacked the Chitauri fatherships. Once those were destroyed, the Chitauri fell immediately, as they did in New York, and the few other aliens loyal to Thanos surrendered.”

“And so ends the reign of Thanos,” Loki says gravely, “and yes, you and I are still here. Perhaps a celebration is in order?” So saying, his slippery hand glides up to cup her breast, and Jane gasps though she had predicted this was coming.

“Loki-“

“But where are my manners? I have not yet cleansed all of you yet.” The darkness is gone from his eyes now. There’s only a sly heat remaining as he rubs small circles around the hardening tip of her nipple.

Jane squeezes her hands as tight as she can on the rim of the tub, which is not tight at all, because they start to hurt.

Then she stops thinking about her hands as Loki continues to tease. Wicked pressure tantalizes both nipples and she arches up, moaning. He leans to drag his teeth across the lobe of her ear, and a shiver rips through her. 

“Such a bad boy,” she laughs. “Taking advantage of my helplessness.”

There’s that predator in his gaze as he answers: “Do I not always?” Ever so slowly, his hand moves down her ribs and belly.

“You’re so-“ she gasps and his fingers pluck gently at the curls between her legs “-consistent that way.” He smiles but there’s a gravity to his gaze, locked on her more intensely then usual, like he’s trying to memorize every curve and angle of her, every reaction he gets, like he might never see her again.

She wants to say something reassuring again, but his mouth takes hers before she can gather the breath to speak. Then she can’t get her thoughts in order, because his hand is between her legs now.

His thumb works her slippery clit a few times before delving lower, caressing between her folds, and Jane’s arm is so tight around his neck that she doesn’t know how he can breathe, hell, she feels like _she_ can’t breathe-

“Jane,” he says, but it’s not a question or a statement. Just her name, whispered into her ear as he scoops her up, dripping wet, into his arms.

Her legs are so shaky she can barely stand when he sets her down, but he steadies her as he reaches for a towel. “Stopping already? Just when it was getting good.” She asks hoarsely, though her hands are still throbbing faintly, pulsing in time with her racing heartbeat.

“Not just yet. But I can better demonstrate the depths of my…admiration for your victory elsewhere.”

They are soon back on his bed, tangling together in the crumpled bed-sheets, though Loki soon positions himself so his tongue can pick up where his thumb left off. Jane would grab the sheets if she could, so she settles for digging her wrists into the mattress as that silver tongue of his probes and nudges, slick and hot.

His eyes still watch her, looking up the length of her body. They move to his right and her left, glancing at the scar, then back at her face. 

_ I’m alive because of him. _

She tries to sit up, to coax him into letting her return the favour, but finds herself pinned to the bed by his iron grip on her hip and splayed across her belly. “You have had your victory, minx,” he growls, cool breath tickling her clit. “Now I will take _mine_.”

He licks, picking up speed, pushing long fingers into her to press up against her most sensitive spots, and Jane couldn’t stop him even if she wanted to, her hands and her scar and the hell they just went through forgotten entirely in the wave of heat that drowns her, shakes her apart and puts her back together again.

Jane blinks sweat from her eyes, fuzzily trying to focus them as Loki rolls off the bed and tucks her in. “No, wait. I mean, don’t you want me to-?“

“You require more rest,” he insists, wiping the shininess of her juices off his cheeks with his hand. “I can be patient.”

“But-“ And yet, Jane can already feel the heaviness of her eyelids, the leaden weight of all her muscles. “Maybe I’ll just nap first, yeah.”

“Warriors need to recover after battle. Do not underestimate the toll it has taken on you. I am sure you were already depleted merely because of the morning’s activities with your Bridge, long before the rest occurred. Which makes it doubly – no, _triply_ \- laudable how you defeated Tha-“

Jane snorts. “It was a lucky shot. I was just hoping to hurt him or slow him down enough that someone else could easily finish the job. How’d I even manage to kill him anyway? I stabbed him in the middle of his back, right?” She forces her eyes open with an effort as Loki stretches out beside her on the bed, his hair feathering against her cheek.

“You were fortunate that he turned just enough toward you for the reinforced spine of his armour to be somewhat out of the way, for one. Titanians have two spines, unlike Midgardians, and your strike went just between them and into his heart. It is located rather differently from those of humans.” Loki reaches across her, one finger lightly tracing around the scar on her shoulder. “Your attack was without flaw. For once, the universe was firmly on our side.”

“Maybe it was tired of him making a mess of everything it had created,” Jane jokes sleepily, but Loki’s expression is still serious. 

“Sleep now,” he urges her. Then, a glimmer of a smile. “If Odin was planning to imprison me, I’m sure he would have done so by now. Therefore, we have the leisure to take our ease.”

He wraps his long body around hers, his warmth nearly drugging, his heartbeat thudding rhythmically in her ear, and Jane barely registers the continuing itch in her hands as she drops off.

*  *  *

Loki excuses himself after breakfast the next morning, though not before he calls for a servant to help Jane dress. 

Which is definitely a little weird. First, because Jane is not used to people bowing to her. Second, because nobody’s ever had to help Jane get dressed before. Then again, without the use of her hands and with a lot of complicated folds to deal with in the golden dress Jane chose from the selection of three the servant showed her, she doesn’t have much choice.

_ What the heck is Loki up to? I thought he said- _

Yet another knock at the door interrupts her uncertain thoughts, and it turns out to be another servant, who informs Jane that Thor has asked her to join him in the gardens if she feels well enough.

Jane’s getting tired of being in bed, and the room feels too quiet and empty with just her in it, so she agrees, following the new servant.

The Palace Gardens are breath-taking, even without the magnificent backdrop of Asgardian’s daytime sky above them, and the massive golden Palace reaching its spire into that sky. Every tree bears flowers of every possible shape, size, and colour, their sweet perfumes tempting Jane to pause and appreciate them fully. There are birds too, surprisingly similar to Earth ones, with the exception of having huge wings and long tails as delicate as gossamer sheets. Hundreds of them flit among the plants and trees, trilling their bright songs.

Flower petals fall from the trees to float through the air like giant flakes of snow, dancing in the warm breeze. The grass is tall and golden, and much softer than the grass back home, the pathway cobbled in smooth stone that makes Jane think of marble. The servant leads Jane to a bench piled with pillows, which is where Thor sits waiting for her.

“Wow,” Jane breathes in open admiration, looking around. And yet, something is off. Shouldn’t Loki be here when Jane gets her first good look at his home?

_ Does he consider it his home anymore? _

_ Then again, considering how tense he gets when Thor is around… _

Thor looks better, stronger. It’s strange to see him out of his armour, even though she’s seen him in jeans and one of Donald’s shirts before, so the long, draped folds of the cape he’s wearing are hardly weirder than that!

“It is somewhat different from your Earth,” Thor agrees, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles.

“How are you doing?” Jane asks him, propping her bandaged and still itchy hands on her knees.

“The healers let me leave without haranguing me for doing so, therefore I must be better,” he answers, smiling still. “And you, Jane?”

“My hands itch like a sonofabitch, but otherwise,” Jane shrugs, “I’m good.”

“Good,” Thor echoes. 

“D’you have any idea where Loki’s gone to?” Jane asks after a comfortable silence falls between them.

“Alas, he still will not take me into his confidence, even in so small a thing,” Thor replies, sadness back in his eyes, and Jane could kick herself for once again speaking before she gets her brain fully in gear.

“I am sure he will be back soon, however,” Thor assures her, his gaze tracking to her left shoulder although her dress conceals the scar. “I wanted to congratulate you, Jane, on constructing your Bifröst. I had every confidence that you would succeed.” He lays a hand gently atop hers, and even through the layers of linen bandage, the warmth bleeds through.

Jane half-smiles in return. “I did, but only temporarily. Loki told me Thanos fried it like an egg. Easy come, easy go, I guess.” Jane tries to keep the bitterness from her voice.

Thor shakes his head. “Now that it has been proven to work, I am certain SHIELD will see to it being rebuilt. If for no other reason than because Director Nick Fury seeks to have me continue being a member of his Avengers team.”

“And is that what _you_ want?” Jane asks.

“As Asgard’s heir, I have dedicated myself to the defense and protection of the Realms, and of Midgard in particular, so yes, it is. And you, Jane Foster, what will you do now that you have achieved your lifelong goal?”

Jane lets a breath out slowly between her teeth. “To be honest, I haven’t really thought about it at all. I guess some part of me thought I would never get my portal built, let alone working, so it seemed silly to plan what I’d do once I succeeded, but now…”

She looks up into the sky. Even though the nighttime portion of the sky has been pushed to one side by the rising of the sun, even in that relatively small patch are more stars than she’s ever seen at one time with the naked eye. They spill like diamonds across the dark; so many worlds out there, waiting.

“If I can get it rebuilt, I guess the sky’s literally no longer the limit. I can visit other Realms, maybe get much closer to all those astronomical phenomena I want to know more about – pulsars, nebulae…” But Jane trails off, because she’s at heart a pragmatist, and she’s not nearly naïve enough to believe that SHIELD will just give her _carte blanche_ to go romping through the universe, for scientific purposes or otherwise.

Thor, ever sensitive, turns to study her furrowed brow. “Jane?”

“It’s just…I don’t know if SHIELD will give me free rein to do what I want. Fury is the cautious type. I can just hear the lecture he’ll give me about bringing angry aliens down on Earth by accident.”

Thor is silent. “If the Midgardian governments are that frightened of change, that would be most unfortunate. Which does not mean that your fears are not correct but…” Thor shrugs, but there’s a spark of amusement in his eyes. “If I know anything at all about my brother, he _lives_ to bend the rules. Something tells me that even if Fury decrees that you cannot employ your Bridge in such a fashion, Loki will make certain that you see other Realms, if that is what you wish.”

“And you’d be OK with that? Loki breaking Fury’s rules?” 

“As long as no harm comes of it, certainly. Much as I am uncertain how much to trust Loki, I cannot see that he would _ever_ do anything to bring ill to you.” Thor’s blue gaze strays once more to Jane’s shoulder.

Jane smiles. “Can’t disagree with you there.”

Thor hesitates, dropping his eyes to the little silver flowers that crowd around the bench. “I am not certain when I knew that Loki loved you. Before even _he_ did, I believe.” He laughs quietly then, Jane turning to him in confusion.

“Loki once taunted me, saying that you had changed me, made me soft,” Thor explains. “But he was wrong. You may indeed have been part of what changed me, but not the only thing. But in his case, I do believe that being with you has changed _him_. For the better. Indeed, I was relying on that.”

Jane shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

“After we rescued you from The Other and Loki fled Midgard to stay here for a time, the All-Father was most pleased that Loki had returned. He believes Loki should be imprisoned for his crimes, perhaps even for all time, regardless of the reasons Loki has offered for his past actions.” Thor stares pensively at the patch of distant stars.

“But Mother and I do not agree with Odin. We argued that letting Loki rot – either in his rooms or in a cell – for eternity was pointless. That Loki would only grow ever angrier, that his hate would only multiply until such point as he found a new means of escape. Then everyone would pay.”

Thor shakes his head. “I could see already how his love for you, and you for him, had altered him. Why else would he endanger his freedom and his life to save you from The Other? I think he knew it too, that he loved you and would risk anything for you. It frightened him, until at last he realized he must accept the risks that come with love, or his isolation and pain would never end.”

“I believe you are the only person in all of Yggdrasil who can help Loki find his way back to us. T hat is how Mother and I convinced Odin to allow Loki to go free.”

Jane is speechless for long seconds. While it’s undeniable that Loki has changed, and that he loves her, the rest of it? Being the mediator between Loki and his adopted family is not something she feels she would be good at. _I mean, look at me and the ruins of my family!_

“Thor, I don’t know that I can help, I mean, that’s a pretty big responsibility to put on me-“

“You mistake me,” Thor clarifies, tones gentle. “This is what I told Odin. I argued that these were the best reasons for letting Loki go free, to return to you on Midgard. And, even if he only came to Asgard to save you from Thanos, rather than to liberate Asgard, I believe the Realms are already reaping the benefits of that freedom.

“But no, I do not expect you to _make_ Loki accept us. That is between him and each of us. Though I stand by my conviction that your acceptance and love of him has opened a door that was not available before. At the very least, it forced him on two occasions to work with those he would otherwise profess his hate for. So, I and all of Asgard thanks you for that.”

“I…don’t know what to say.”

As Jane sits befuddled, Thor leans down to snap a sprig of the silver flowers. Smiling warmly, he holds them out for her to inspect. “You are not required to say anything. Though if you would accept these as a small token of my gratitude for everything you have done, for me, for Loki and for Asgard, it would please me. We call them starflowers, and they seem very apt given your love of the stars.”

Jane loops her wrist over his to bring the flowers closer, breathing in their lovely scent and studying the tiny silver petals. The center of each flower is a bright blue which reminds her of Loki’s Jotun skin.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“And I also hope you will always count me your friend, regardless of how things progress with my errant brother.” Thor says, sounding wistful.

Jane hugs Thor as best she can. “Always,” she whispers, blinking back the tears that want to fall. 

*  *  *

Tired again and mindful of the feasting and funeral rites she promised to attend tonight, Jane says goodbye to Thor for now and heads back to Loki’s rooms, the servant from before cradling the flowers and leading the way since Jane is pretty sure she needs a roadmap of the Palace to be able to find anything without a servant.

She gets still another surprise when the servant opens the doors. Sitting on her bed are Erik and Darcy.

The servant lays the starflowers on the bedside table and bows herself out, then Darcy bounds to her feet, rushing towards Jane, nearly knocking her off her feet as the smaller woman collides with her.

“You’re OK, oh thank God. I won’t say which god, though,” Darcy quips, turning to wink at Loki, who is back to hovering awkwardly in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jane assures her. “My hands are kinda fucked up right now, but they’re healing up.” Her gaze shifts to Erik. “How did you guys-?”

“Loki brought us through the wormhole in the desert. It was wicked cool,” Darcy explains enthusiastically. “We zipped by all these freakin’ planets and stuff. Total Warp Twelve. Star Trek, eat your heart out. Did you see that stuff when you tested your portal? And whoa, those are some gorgeous threads.” She turns to Loki. “Do I get one, too?”

“Darcy!” Jane exclaims, exasperated and overwhelmed already by Darcy’s rapid-fire barrage, but Loki seems happy to be acknowledged. 

“I will certainly see to it, should you wish to stay for the ceremonies. You have all had your roles to play in this victory.” His eyes shift briefly to Erik, then away.

“Damn straight I’m staying. How often do I get to party on an alien world? We’re staying, right Erik?”

Erik shakes his head and blinks quickly as if waking from a dream. “Sure. Sure we are.”

“In that case,” Loki continues stiffly. “I have some matters I must see to for tonight. Enjoy your visit with your friends, Jane.” Jane doesn’t expect Loki to kiss her but he does, a soft peck on her lips, and then he’s gone.

“Is there a bathroom here?” Erik asks. Jane points him to the room, shutting the door behind him. She walks swiftly back to Darcy, speaking in a whisper. “I can’t believe you two are here, especially Erik! I would never have guessed he’d trust Loki to take him anywhere.”

“He didn’t. Or at least, not at first. Then Loki pointed out how fast you’d dump him out on his ass if he killed me or Erik, and Erik agreed at last. I think it’s really because I was coming along, though.” Darcy shrugs. “Actually, Fury was a much bigger dick about it. He didn’t want us to go, and Loki even offered to beam Fury too, but Fury got all bureaucratic and said something about sending an official delegation later. He changed his mind and sent Coulson with us though, although I’m not sure where Agent Phil is now. He said something about checking out Asgardian security, or something.”

Jane snorts. _Trust SHIELD to turn what should be a solemn occasion into a fact-finding mission_. But either way, it’s not her problem. She hugs Darcy tight, and then hugs Erik as he emerges from the bathroom, and the three of them settle on the bed so Jane can tell them the whole story, from her official interplanetary wormhole test to Loki showing up on their doorsteps this morning.

*  *  *

Darcy and Erik stay through lunch – yet another servant brings them a tray loaded with way too much food for three people – but excuse themselves in the early afternoon to go rest themselves, which is just fine by Jane.

She crawls back under Loki’s sheets, dozing off in record time. 

Jane is awakened by a hand gently shaking her unwounded shoulder. She opens her eyes to see Loki, and also the late sunlight that is still filtering through the tall windows. “I am sorry to disturb your slumbers. I tried to let you rest as long as I could.”

Nodding, Jane rolls sleepily out of bed. “S’okay, I’ve slept enough. By the way, that was really nice of you to bring Darcy and Erik here.” She turns, starting when she realizes they’re not alone.

Loki grins at her, and she’s pretty sure half of it is amusement at her reaction. “I thought you would welcome some familiar faces.” He motions towards the three servants near the door. “We have some preparations we must see to. Only a few hours remain before the feasting begins.”

Jane glances down at her bed-gown or whatever it is, then smiles back at Loki. “But I’ve nothing to wear.”

He turns and beckons to the small group of people, who bow to her (which is nearly becoming normal to Jane). They are holding gowns, and a quick glance informs Jane that most of the dresses are of a particular hue.

“ If I am not being presumptuous, your beauty will shine best in my colours.” There’s that smirk again. 

Jane raises an eyebrow. “Here you go spoiling me again.”

This earns her a salacious wink, and the servants hide grins and pretend to be looking anywhere but at the two of them as Loki assures her in arch tones: “You can _repay_ me at a later time.”

Even after Jane selects one, Loki is not pleased with the fit, so an hour passes in a blur of trying on the various components of the dress multiple times, as the servants (their names are Agnora, Alfrida, Gea, and Roskva) sew and alter and adjust. Then there’s more trying on, and more alterations, until Jane has to sit on the mattress to stop her legs from aching. 

Then they help her into the dress (Loki is kind enough to busy himself in the bathroom while they do that), they bow and leave, and then yet another woman – Øyfrid - comes in to help Jane apply cosmetics and to curl her hair into loose ringlets. Loki has by now disappeared to some kind of hidden walk-in closet to dress himself, but he emerges by the time Roskva returns to offer Jane a tray of jewelry to choose from. 

Jane stops to admire what he’s wearing. She can definitely see echoes of his armor in the flared shoulders of this new get-up, and in the small squares of silver metal decorating the legs of his leather pants. There’s also the braiding of the sleeves of his leather surcoat, which itself is mostly black with a few patches of green to match her chosen dress. From his neck to his boot-toes gold and silver gleams from both metal and embroidered accents.

“Got any suggestions?” she asks him, indicating the tray and sweeping a ringlet out of her face. He hesitates between two gold necklaces but finally selects the one with an emerald-green stone (not a surprise) and matching earrings and bracelets.

All the women who have waited on her are now gathered in a small group by the door, looking between her and Loki, and waiting expectantly. 

He studies her closely, then smiles and turns to them. “You have acquitted yourselves well. You are dismissed.”

_ He didn’t even say thanks! _ Jane thinks with shock, but the servants wear wide smiles as they bow to both Loki and her, and exit the room.

Before she can think to scold him about his manners (or lack of them), he takes her by the elbow and steers her over to his long mirror. It disorients Jane for a second, having seen this exact mirror before in her dream, but not for long. She’s too distracted by the sight of herself and the complete picture she makes, dressed, adorned and made-up. Loki appears right behind her, wearing a small but somehow wary smile. “Are you pleased?” he asks after a beat.

Jane studies herself from head to toe. She’s not usually dressed so…fancy. Her dress is of some soft emerald fabric, designed so that it reveals one bared shoulder (the scarred one), and embroidered thickly at the sweeping neckline and flared ends of the sleeves with gold and silver thread, tiny snakes worked into the design. Like Loki’s, she realizes, now that he’s standing close enough for her to see the exquisite detailing on his clothes.

Her snake necklace is gone of course, and the new one feels too light on her neck. She realizes she misses it, but she doesn’t want to think about anything relating at all to Thanos right now, so she pushes the thought aside, continuing to admire what she _is_ wearing; there’s also a sort of corset of soft leather, also dyed gold, and the material of her sleeves is braided in another echo of Loki’s clothing and armour. Her hair falls in artful curls over the shoulders of the gown, her jewels winking in the torchlight. Her makeup is easily the most understated thing, and she has to smile at the thought.

“But isn’t this a little…I don’t know, ostentatious for a funeral?”

“That is later. First comes the feasting, which is to celebrate both our victory, and the lives of those who were lost, but we do so with joy.” 

_ The Asgardian version of a wake, I guess. _ He’s still looking at her a little nervously, so she reassures him: “It’s all gorgeous, but…I guess I don’t feel much like myself? Give me jeans and one of my flannels any day,” she admits.

The side of his mouth quirks up. “I am afraid as my consort, there are certain…expectations.” 

Jane snorts, not sure she wants to know exactly what he means. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the rebel.” Jane smiles at him through the mirror. “You look really handsome, by the way.”

He smiles broadly and turns her, bending to press his forehead to hers. “I prefer to pick my battles,” he murmurs. “If I must, after the banquet, I can bring you your Midgardian attire, if you prefer. The servants have cleaned it many days past. I wish for you to be comfortable, especially while you are healing.”

_ Speaking of _ -  Jane glances down at her hands. The edges of the sleeves are long enough to fall to cover her hands up to halfway down her palm, but the bandaging is clearly visible, although her hands have healed enough that her fingers have been left unwrapped to the second knuckle of each digit since this morning.

She half turns to look back in the mirror again. “Why show off the scar?”

Loki blinks at that. “There is no shame in displaying wounds honorably won in battle.”

Here Jane has to snort again. “I stabbed him in the back, _literally_. I’m not sure that qualifies as ‘battle’. Or ‘honourable’, come to think of it.”

Loki bares his teeth in a grimace. “Thanos was deserving of no better, I assure you.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Jane agrees. His eyes look haunted again, and Jane curses herself for reminding him of those times. Hoping to distract him, she walks towards the tall windows that open out onto the room’s huge balcony, leaning on the railing to admire the panorama. 

Huge mountains rear up in the distance, forming an impressive backdrop to the orderly sprawl of the city. The gilded spires of the buildings reach towards the sky, the latter impossibly marbled in the blue of late afternoon and the glimmer of bright stars at the same time. The sun is much larger but paler than Earth’s, and three white moons hover close to the horizon on her left, one large and two small. There’s a red and gold spray of nebula decorating the sky to Jane’s right, and she can even see a string of planets nearly right above them, a celestial necklace that takes her breath away.

She feels Loki move up beside her. “It’s so beautiful,” she breathes, staring upwards.

“Yes,” he agrees. “And yet, the most beautiful thing in all of Asgard at the moment is not, in fact, of Asgard. He smiles wickedly and bends to kiss the arch of her collarbone, his arms moving sinuously around her waist.

They barely make it to the feasting on time.

*  *  *

When she and Loki first enter the Greater Feasting Hall, Jane is nearly bowled over by the sheer scale of it. Tables nearly a football field long stretch from end-to-end, all of them loaded with enough food and drink to feed the entire population of Earth, as far as Jane is concerned. The Asgardians obviously love gold; the walls, high ceiling and massive pillars are all gilded, reflecting the flickering torches that line the walls and ring the pillars.

Loki was right about the tone of the festivities; everyone is laughing, shouting, some literally singing the praises of the fallen, and the colours of their capes and dresses are a riotous rainbow that threatens to dizzy her, the cacophony of voices washing over her like a high wave.

_ Holy crap! _ Jane thinks. _How am I supposed to find Darcy or Erik or Tony in this mayhem?_

Jane starts when a guard standing next to the entrance blows a horn of some kind, the sound echoing in the high ceiling. A hush falls on the room, everyone looking towards them, and another man next to the trumpeter announces importantly: “Prince Loki Odinson,” – Jane can feel Loki stiffening next to her, but his expression is neutral when she glances up at his face – “and his consort, Jane Foster of Midgard, the Death-killer.”

Jane’s mouth falls open. “What did he just say?” she whispers to Loki. _Oh Christ, everyone is looking at us._

He glances down at her, smirking ever-so-slightly. “Thanos fancied himself to be the consort of Death, if not Death itself. You ushered him to his own end, and thus, you are the Death-killer.”

“Oh. My. God!” Jane mutters, turning bright red. A roaring sound breaks through her embarrassment, and Jane dares to look back into the hall. Everyone is cheering and raising their tankards, and Jane can distinguish the occasional “Loki!” and “Death-Killer” and her name.

“Can I just die right now of embarrassment, please?” she mutters to Loki. 

He laughs outright at this, and starts to tug her down the stairs with him, down to the hall proper. He nods at the nearest group of cheering guards, before saying to her: “Please do not! Enjoy their acclamation as your due, my love. Besides, I am sure once Thor arrives they will forget all about us. As usual.” Jealousy tinges Loki’s words, and Jane bites her lip as he leads her to a raised dais with a somewhat shorter table on the side of the room. 

They mount the stairs and Loki pauses with a short hum of surprise, and Jane sees Thor is already there. In fact the table is full, though only one side has chairs, so no one has their back to the hall. 

Everyone there is standing and applauding her, or perhaps her and Loki. 

_ Yep, totally insane. _

When Jane takes a closer look, she realizes Odin is seated at one end of the table. He’s the only one not on his feet and clapping or cheering. In his full regalia, he seems to be making an obvious effort to appear reserved and kingly. This despite the fact that Frigga and Thor, both standing next to him, are apparently not at all concerned about their dignity.

There are two seats empty to Thor’s left and Loki, not in any apparent hurry, walks around Odin and steers Jane to those seats. To her relief, on her left is Darcy, then Erik, then Tony, and then people that Jane recognizes as Sif and the Warriors Three, scattered between the various members of the Avengers team. There’s even Coulson, squeezed between Volstagg and Hogun, still wearing his SHIELD-issued suit, exuding calmness even as Volstagg claps him on the back hard enough for mead to slosh from Phil’s goblet onto the table. 

Past the Avengers and Thor’s friends, taking up the rest of the long table, are a number of other Asgardians who Jane can only assume were instrumental in the battle for Asgard. At least they seem to be warriors as well, judging by their ceremonial armour.

Everyone takes their seats again as Jane and Loki are seated. “Wow, that was awesome! You’re like a freakin’ celebrity here Jane!” Darcy points out, excitement making her voice staccato. 

“Don’t remind me,” Jane mutters. “I need wine. _Now_.”

Darcy passes her a cup with a pale liquid that smells and tastes of honey. “The mead is better. But it’s pretty potent though! Erik still has a hangover from lunch!” Darcy says, waving a hand at the older man, who indeed looks like he’d give anything for migraine meds.

“Erik?” Jane asks, but he waves her off. 

“Fine, I’m fine. Just can’t hold my Asgardian liquor apparently-“

He’s interrupted by Tony, who flashes Jane a grin as Tony slings and arm around Erik’s shoulders and draws the man into a retelling of the Battle of Manhattan for Sif’s benefit.

“Lady Darcy. You look particularly lovely. I trust the dress is to your liking?”

“It’s just Darcy, dude,” she contradicts him.

“Forgive me. ‘Old habits die hard’, as I believe you mortals say.”

“S’okay,” Darcy replies, and Jane studies the other woman’s dress. It’s dark blue ornamented with silver thread and silver jewelry, and her hair curled in a style similar to Jane’s. “Though I do wish you had told me we were going to be partying, Loki! I would’ve brought my contacts,” she complains.

Loki looks confused, and Jane sighs. “Special lenses that go in your eyes, so you don’t need to wear glasses,” she explains to Loki. 

A sharp slamming noise and the vibration of the floor under Jane’s feet brings her and everyone else to silence, and at the end of the table Odin is rising slowly to his feet.

He raps his staff – Gungnir, Loki told her it was called – on the floor again. “Asgard owes its freedom today, to the courage and resourcefulness of those you see here.” He motions with the staff to indicate their table.

“Thanos is dead, his armies defeated, and the Tesseract and Gauntlet have been returned to the Vault, where they belong.”

_ Huh? Shouldn’t they be kept apart? _ Jane thinks, though she does her best to hide her shock. She might be brave enough to stab Thanos in the back, but she’s not ‘courageous’ enough to argue the point with Odin, especially in a crowded room in front of everyone.

“But,” Odin continues, sorrow in his voice, “Many were lost. Men, women, and children, cut down by Thanos’ forces, both in the initial attack and in the battle to retake Asgard.”

“This night, we celebrate both the ending of that threat, and those who lost or gave their lives that we could stand here now in freedom.”

“And we thank in particular those of Midgard who came to our aid, though we asked it not.”

Jane isn’t sure if there’s an edge of bitterness to his voice or not. He raises a tankard – of gold, and crusted with red gems – and Jane scrambles to follow suit as everyone else in the room mimics Odin. “We therefore offer a toast. To the victorious living!”

The answering roar is loud enough to shake the rafters.

“And to the victorious dead!” 

Another roar, louder than the first, and then Odin raises the cup to his mouth and drinks deep. Jane again does the same, though the burn of the liquor makes her wish a second later that she hadn’t.

Next to her Loki’s face is equally sour, though Jane doubts it’s from the mead. “Typical,” he mutters, “that Odin chooses not to recogni-“

He is interrupted by Thor coming to his feet, raising his stein high over his head. “Let us also toast those whose bravery and wisdom were most instrumental to our success!” He motions towards Loki and Jane. “To my brother, Prince Loki!”

Loki’s hand squeezes Jane’s almost painfully tight under the table, but he only smiles and nods at the people below who are once again on their feet. When Thor claps him on the shoulder, he turns and narrows his eyes at Thor, but the blond god grins unrepentantly.

“And to the Lady Jane, Death-killer!” Thor adds, his eyes twinkling with mirth now as Thor raises the stein to his lips. Jane rolls her eyes and on impulse sticks out her tongue at him, not caring who sees. She’s red as a tomato already, so how much more embarrassed can she get?

Thor and everyone else mercifully sits down again. “Careful, _brother,_ ” Loki says dryly, “one might think you actually approve of me now.”

“Let them think thus,” Thor answers, his face serious again. He glances over at Odin, who looks as though he’d rather shove a flaming poker down his own throat than be sitting here honouring them. “And you should get used to such accolades, Jane. I am sure that is only the first of many. You have not yet been celebrated on Midgard for the success of your Rainbow Bridge.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jane says with a grimace, wincing as Darcy elbows her. 

“Stop being such a stick-in-the-mud,” Darcy chides her. “Here, what do you want to eat? I’ll cut it for you.” Jane tries to protest, but Darcy won’t hear of it. “I got this. I babysat a toddler for one whole summer. I can _totally_ cut up food like a pro.”

Jane rests her forehead in her bandaged hands. _I should have said I was too weak to do this._

Luckily it gets better from there. The food, if strange, is all very tasty, and the mead _is_ potent, so much so that Jane is soon fuzzily enjoying herself after only about two-thirds of a stein.

She loses track of the people who come up to congratulate her. There’s Frigga, and Tony, and the ‘Warriors Three’ or whatever they call themselves. Coulson too, and there’s even Captain America shaking her hand (sort of). _Completely surreal._

Not Odin, of course. He continues to sit there, ignoring Loki and Jane as much as possible though he is civil to everyone else. Jane is not surprised though she feels bad for Loki. She’s well-aware how much he’s always yearned for his adopted father’s approval.

Through it all Loki sits there with his small smile, saying little, but Jane knows him well enough by now to recognize that he feels as awkward and out-of-place as she does. It makes her heart ache for him all over again.

Once the meal concludes, the tables are pushed aside, the groan of wood on stone utterly ugly to Jane’s ears, but the dancing that takes over the center floor is fascinating. The instruments played are similar to harps, guitars, and flutes, and the strains of music seem at times to have familiar melodies.

She brushes off both Fandral and Thor’s requests to dance, but of course Tony refuses to be denied. “Hey, we’ll make up our own dance steps,” he insists, his breath heavy with mead. “We’ll create a new human dance sensation here on the Norse God planetoid. D’you know the Macarena, by any chance?”

Looking back Jane figures that must be the point she decided to just go with the craziness. How else to explain standing in the middle of the hall, giggling as Tony does some weird sequence of actions which she’s not sure even qualify as a dance, even if he has decent musicality, with Jane following along as best she can. Which is not very well at all, but plenty of Asgardians are well into their cups now, and Jane’s not the only uncoordinated person dancing. She may not even be the worst one.

She’s still relieved when Loki materializes and claims her for the next dance, something much slower and more sedate. 

“Are you well?” he asks her, slowing even further to repeat a series of steps for her. 

“A little tipsy, I think. I’m sorry, I guess it’s expected to be sober for the funeral, isn’t it?”

“Fear not, the healers usually see to those who have overindulged on occasions like this. I do not even think you will warrant their help; at least you are still standing.” It’s true, there’s more than one person curled up under a table, snoring.

“It will be soon,” he adds, anticipating her question. He draws her out of the gathering of dancers, and to a window. “When that large blue star reaches the zenith,” he explains, “that is when the funeral rites begin.”

In fact, within the hour everyone is spilling out of the Hall, surprisingly orderly and subdued lines of people walking along the path leading from the Palace to the docks, the ocean stretching away to the velvet black sky, the horizon outlined in bright blue-green mist where the water defies Jane’s logic and falls off the edge of the world and into the abyss of space. _If it’s all running off into space, why has the ocean not run dry by now? Magic? I’ll have to ask Loki some time._

There’s a slight chill in the air, and Jane is grateful for the light cloak of black wool that Loki produces from his Interdimensional Closet for her. Something brushes her face and she starts, but she realizes it’s only a flower petal. More petals are falling gently from the sky like tears, as if Asgard itself is mourning its loss.

Jane’s heart sinks at the number of boats lined up against the shore. _So many people,_ she thinks numbly. She says as much to Loki, his face solemn as he agrees. “Yes. But the number would have been much greater had we not succeeded. More, and likely unmourned.”

Odin makes another speech that Jane won’t remember later. Once it’s ended, Loki explains the rites to her quietly as she watches. How the family members launch the boats of their deceased kin, how the archers light the boats on fire before they reach the waterfall, to help speed the souls of the dead to Valhalla. 

Her eyes widen as the boats do not fall over the edge of the ocean, but instead continue on into space, exploding silently into fireballs that turn white. They rise into the sky, getting smaller and smaller until Jane can’t tell which is a star and which was once a burning boat carrying a fallen Asgardian to their rest.

Jane thinks the ceremony is over at that point, but it isn’t. Several people in white robes now move through the throng, offering small balls of white light that grow to the size of basketballs once a person has accepted them into their hands.

“Loki? What’s this for?” she asks as one of the robed people approaches them. 

“At all funerals it is customary to honor the memory of those who went before. If you have lost someone truly dear to you, or someone who was an important influence in your life, even if it was not recent, you may take one of the lights, and cast it into the sky with the rest of the bereaved. Is there someone you have lost whom you wish to honour this night?” Behind her Jane can hear Thor explaining the practice to the Avengers and the other humans.

“Yes. My dad,” Jane whispers, accepting a light from the attendant and cradling it carefully with her bandaged hands. It’s hard to tell through the bandages, but it feels like she’s holding nothing. She holds onto it carefully. _The last thing I need to do is drop this thing!_ She notices Loki doesn’t take one, and neither does Thor. But Steve Rogers does, as does Erik. _Probably for his wife,_ Jane thinks. _Or maybe my Dad? They were very close._ She’ll ask him later.

The greatest surprise is when Tony steps up beside Jane, also cradling a ball of light gingerly in his hands. She can nearly see his mind ticking away, studying it, trying to catalogue and understand it. At Jane’s questioning look, Tony explains: “Guy named Yinsen. He saved my life, basically, by making the distant forerunner of this thing,” Tony explains quietly, subdued for once as he taps a finger on his arc reactor. “And he lost his life making sure I got out of Afghanistan.”

Jane’s not sure what signal is given or when, but Loki murmurs “Now,” and she raises the ball in her hands and releases it. It rises into the sky on its own, drifting up and away, all of the lights joining together and moving like schools of fish higher and higher, playing among the stars, until they are lost to sight. She doesn’t bother to hide the tears on her cheeks as she turns to hug Loki, burying her face against his chest.

*  *  *

Loki stalks the Palace hallways deep in thought the next morning. He may have assured Jane the day after she woke from her ordeal that Odin would not imprison him, but in truth he had been half-expecting that any second Palace guards would barge into his chambers and demand that Loki surrender himself.

But as one day had followed another day, and nothing of the like had occurred, Loki had felt more confident in his initial assertion. Thor’s unchallenged accolade of Loki at the feasting seemed to cement it. He was no longer considered an enemy of Asgard, it appeared.

_ Ah, but am I considered a _ friend _?_

Likely not, and yet Loki knows he has little choice but to try to rebuild an allegiance of some kind with his family. Jane would certainly approve. 

He does not know his next move, but it seems likely that if he stays here in Asgard, he will need to be on tolerable terms with his ‘family’. If he chooses to return to Midgard with Jane, however, he knows that he would still prefer to be on decent terms with Frigga and Thor at the very least. Thor’s assertion of himself as a protector of Midgard, and as an Avenger, would seem to guarantee that he and Loki will likely cross paths there at some point or other. Jane’s portal and the Asgardian Bifröst, once one or both are rebuilt, will only favour that likelihood.

Loki tells himself it is for this purpose only, to ease his future troubles, that he seeks to make amends. Though even here, he will be strategic.

He sees little need, for example, to apologize to the Warriors Three for the Destroyer attack on them down in Jane’s city. For one, they had disobeyed their King, which is treason even if Loki had not been entirely in his right mind. Second, Loki knows they will always follow Thor, so if Thor sees Loki as an ally, they will have little choice but to cooperate, as indeed had happened before during their battle with The Other. 

Loki also forsees little chance that he will be required to interact with them in the future, as they themselves are not Avengers. They are also of little use to him besides.

Which is how Loki finds himself in the antechamber of his adopted mother’s rooms, requesting that one of her handmaidens see whether Frigga will grant him an audience.

He is ushered immediately into her rooms, his un-mother setting aside her loom to stand and welcome him. “My son,” she says, motioning to the guards to close the doors and leave them in privacy.

Loki walks over to the nearest window, gazing outside but unseeing. “You know that I have never been that, and never will.” Though he is not angry about it, or not with _her_ , at least. More resigned than angry. His anger rests with Odin.

“You are wrong,” she says flatly, rising from her thickly upholstered couch to stride to his side. “Family is about more than blood, Loki. I had the raising of you.” She pauses. “Yes, mistakes were made along the way. Perhaps you are right and we should have told you much earlier about your true heritage. Perhaps it would have made little difference.”

Loki turns sharply to her, but Frigga motions him to silence. “You know that had we revealed you were a Frost Giant, others would have automatically reacted to you with distrust and fear, merely because of your heritage. Our long-standing…disagreements with Jotunheim would have rendered that inevitable.”

She is likely right, and yet- “So, I am in the wrong-“

“No, my son. I am trying to say that perhaps there _was_ no right way to avoid this rupture between us. That perhaps it was doomed to happen the moment Odin chose to claim you from the rubble of that Temple.”

Loki can feel the blood draining from his face, but Frigga steps forward and lays her warm hands atop his cold ones. “But it also _does not matter_. I apologize for hurting you, and I hope you trust me when I say any hurt we caused was unintentional. I still consider you my son, and I should like to mend the rift between us. To earn back your trust.”

She tugs on his hands, leading him back to her couch. She smiles, her gaze nostalgic as she recalls: “Do you remember when you were a child? You had such difficulty with the heavy swords and shields used for training, they limited your natural agility so.”

Loki frowns, not pleased to remember those days; sweaty, achy, cursed at by the weapons master and laughed at by Thor and the other boys in training. At least until Sif’s desire to train gave them an alternate target.

“What of it?” he asks, his voice harsh.

“Do you not remember how I interceded for you?”

He does. Odin had been disappointed, but Frigga, ever practical, had insisted to the weapons master that Loki be trained with weapons more suited to him. And so Loki had developed skill with dagger and staff. 

Loki can still remember the day he’d been in the library, conjuring illusions of Odin’s ravens between his hands. How transparent and unconvincing they had been at first, and yet…

He can close his eyes and picture Frigga walking into the library, catching him in the act.

_ Her head tilts, studying him, and Loki banishes the illusion in embarrassment, his cheeks heating with slow blood. _

_ No doubt Mother will report him to Father. He can still hear Odin’s disapproving words: “Magic has its place for warriors, but only in offensive or defensive magics. Spells to fool the eyes of enemies are beneath a true warrior, Loki.” _

_ But Mother had stepped closer, crouching down beside him and arranging her skirts comfortably, before turning to him. _

_ “Teach me, Loki,” she’d said. “Show me how to form my magic into illusions as you can.” _

He blinks the memory away.

“I have ever been on your side, Loki, and I remain so now. Even more so, if you choose to wed this mortal and start a family of your own. You will want my involvement then, if only as someone to take the child when you and Jane require some time to yourselves.” She smiles at him.

He stares at her for long seconds. “You… _want_ me to give you grandchildren?”

Frigga looks affronted. “Of course! What does any mother wish for her offspring? A spouse, children, a happy home. A _future_.”

“But,” he blurts out before he can stop himself, “my get will be abominations! Half Midgardian, half Jotun!” Nausea twists hard at his belly.

“ _You_ are the one who believes such, Loki,” Frigga points out kindly, though her voice hardens. “And I will admit, no doubt not the only one who thinks so. But neither adversity, nor the blindness of others, has ever proved a true impediment to you.”

Loki laughs bitterly, rising from his seat to pace. “Surely you jest-“

“Do I?” Frigga counters, voice firm. “Laufey, coward that he is, wished you dead. Yet here you are. My often-foolish husband, though I love him well despite his flaws, thought you a lesser warrior than Thor. But how many times has your magic and speed proved the turning point of a battle, no matter what others boasted afterwards? Thanos wished to conquer both Midgard and Asgard, and you neatly foiled him both times, despite many harrowing obstacles. Tell me, my _son_ , though the road has been most difficult, where precisely do you see failure?”

Loki opens his mouth, but then closes it again, his thoughts a chaotic whirl. Trust Frigga to know how best to render him speechless. 

A knock at the door allows time to move forward once more. “My Queen,” the handmaiden announces, “the delegation from Vanir is due to arrive shortly-“

“My thanks, Dyveke. I will be there shortly.” She rises from the couch and approaches Loki, stretching on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Perhaps you and Jane would join me for dinner this evening? I am most curious to learn more about her.”

Loki finds himself back out in the hallway almost before he knows what happened.

Still pensive, he casts a quick spell to locate Jane. Her torc is gone, destroyed by Thanos, but it is easy enough to stretch his awareness to encompass the entire Palace, until he locates her. _The Library, of course._ He should have guessed.

Feeling unsettled by Frigga’s words – who precisely is the manipulator here, he wonders – his mood is not much improved when he arrives at the library to find her there with the Avengers and indeed the rest of the Midgardian group.

He comes in just in time to hear Lady Darcy – Darcy, rather – exclaiming over just how many shelves of books they have. Loki pauses in the doorway. It is true of course, the books go right up the six walls to the skylight high above, nearly five stories tall. Shelves of books even circle the four pillars in the middle of the circular room. Climbing the innumerable circling stairways to reach the higher tomes had been a frequent activity for Loki in his youth, particularly during Asgard’s rainy season.

Nobody has noticed his presence yet, and Loki halts, pausing to remember his many hours in this very room, as a child and teenager, and later as a man, learning the various spells, learning about the forces that bind Yggdrasil together. _And teaching them to Frigga after, at her request._

His mood lowering again, Loki descends the five stairs down into the library, steeling himself inwardly as he approaches the pack of mortals.

Stark and Jane are off to one side of the group, Stark explaining to Jane the mechanism by which he allowed his computer system to run the suit despite being on a Realm far from Midgard. “So you see,” Stark is saying, “It’s kind of like cloning Jarvis. Mini-Jarvis, right? But then when I get back, once I sync the two Jarvises up-Ah, there’s your BF!“

Stark smirks and nods, though Loki chooses to only grant him a chilly smile in deference to Jane’s past request to be ‘a little less of a dick’, in her memorable words. Loki has enough battles to fight on Asgard already; picking a fight with Stark is entirely a waste of his energy.

“Not a bad town you have here,” Stark says to Loki. “Thor and I did the drive-by – or I guess, fly-by – tour this morning of the place. But that ocean just falling over the edge and vanishing…that is _fucked_ up.”

Loki smiles as politely as he can manage, not really listening as he folds his fingers around Jane’s wrist. The bandaging is much lighter, only one layer now, and her fingers left uncovered. Within days, she will be completely healed, and Loki knows he will need to make a decision. Here, Midgard, or somewhere else in Yggdrasil? He and Jane will need to have an important discussion.

As if reading Loki’s mind, Stark stretches and glances over at the Son of Coul, who is flipping through one of the older books of star-maps. He’s aiming a small handheld device at many of the pages, pushing buttons. A clicking noise and a brief flash of light emits from the device each time he does so. “I guess Fury will pop a vein if we don’t head back soon?” Stark asks the Son of Coul.

The SHIELD warrior smiles ever so slightly. “Well, you do realize that _all_ the Avengers are here at the moment?” he asks. “Still, I’m sure if one or two of you want to stay longer, it can be arranged. King Odin informed me that it will be little trouble to use the Tesseract to send us back-“

“Wait, you’re going?”

“We don’t know whether anyone will try to avenge Thanos’ death, Doctor Foster,” the Son of Coul explains calmly. “I think Fury would prefer that at least some of our team is back topside, yes.”

“Unlikely,” Loki says, resisting the urge to look around though he can feel the wary eyes of every Midgardian on him, like an animal they are not sure they can trust. “Thanos did not make _friends_. He killed, and he assimilated. None will mourn his passing, I assure you.”

“That reminds me,” Stark says, his tone back to its usual brashness, and Loki braces himself. “I don’t recall you ever thanking us, Reindeer Games, for our help. It _was_ my tech that got you back here in the first place.”

Jane rolls her eyes. “Tony, for God’s sake-”

Loki raises a brow at him. “You ‘did not do this for _my_ benefit’, were those not your exact words? You helped in order to save Jane, whom you consider your friend. And to help Thor, I am sure, since you also consider him your _friend_. Not to mention stopping Thanos before he laid waste to your precious Earth. In fact, from my perspective, I am the one who freely gave you _my_ aid. I do not see that my thanks are required. Perhaps you should consider,” he concludes imperiously, “that you are the ones who owe _me_.”

Tony leans forward in his chair, eyes gleaming. “Why, you arrogant little-“

Jane sighs and presses her bandaged palm to her forehead. “You two really give me a headache sometimes, you know that?”

*  *  *

The next morning, after Loki has used the natural pathway to send the Avengers, the Son of Coul, and Jane’s friends back to Midgard, Loki contemplates his next move. 

Jane has agreed to stay here until her hands are healed, but that does not earn him much time to complete his plan.

And yet, he finds himself circling the gardens yet a fifth time. He is not keen to approach either Thor or Odin, but he knows he must, if only to get a sense of what use they might be to him (or not) in the future. If for nothing else. 

Frigga, by her own words, is on his side. He hopes he will not have to test that assertion, but he also knows that Thor is the person he is most likely to encounter in the near future.

It is this thought that brings him to the balcony overlooking the training grounds. The Warriors Three are below, attempting to slowly build up their weakened bodies. Thor is at the railing, looking down at them.

Unsure of how to greet him, Loki glides over to stand next to Thor. 

“Brother,” Thor says. 

The refrain is becoming tired even to Loki, but he still feels compelled to argue the point. “Yet I am not.”

Thor motions towards his comrades below, his voice quiet and contemplative as he answers: “Hogun, Fandral and Volstagg are not linked to me by blood, but I still consider them brothers. Sif too, I count as my sister. Why should I think any less of you, Loki, especially after all we have been through together?”

Loki waits, choosing his words carefully. Instead of saying ‘You _know_ why’, he finds himself instead uttering: “I thought you always did.”

Thor mutters a curse that would make Frigga box his ears if she heard him utter such things. Then he seizes Loki’s sleeve and pulls him along the corridor as Thor searches for a more private place to speak. The weapons room is empty, so Thor draws Loki into there.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I made light of you and your skills because I was _envious_ , Loki?”

Loki laughs at that. “You lie,” he snarls, forgetting his promise to himself to maintain iron control over his temper. “Envious, of _me_? What exactly-?”

“I may be the stronger of body, but you think I did not realize you were superior in other ways? I never had the patience to sit in the Library for hours as you did, studying your spell-books, learning the wisdom of the ages. Nor the skill to bedazzle our foes as you did, nor to come up with the elaborate schemes you employed. And still do.

“Besides which, siblings are often at odds. Such are the dangers of spending so much time in each other’s company.”

It reminds him of something Jane had said this morning: As an only child herself, she knew little of the dynamic between brothers, but she had mentioned others she had grown up with, and the friction that could occur between siblings. That perhaps Thor had not truly meant to cause him pain, or that no malice had been ultimately intended.

“There is nothing I can do to erase the past, Loki,” Thor is saying, walking closer to lay hands on Loki’s shoulders. “I can only offer my apologies, and ask that you consider allowing me to be a part of yours and Jane’s life in the future, in whatever capacity you see fit.”

“I do not know what capacity I see fit,” Loki admits, and it is the complete truth.

“I understand. You do not need to decide this instant.” Thor turns from him to study a rack of swords on an opposite wall. “Will you stay in Asgard for a time?” Thor asks, his voice carefully casual. 

“I may,” Loki replies. “for a time. If Jane also desires it, of course. She may prefer to return to Midgard to rebuild her portal, and return here at a later date. In which case I will go with her, if, of course, Odin allows me to leave.” His voice fairly drips with acid on the final words.

“He will,” Thor says in a flat tone that brooks no argument.

Loki smirks. “Things between you and the All-Father are worse than I thought.”

Thor is frowning now. “I do not approve of the secrets he kept from us growing up. Nor do I approve of him stripping my powers and banishing me to Midgard all that time ago. Though it served his purpose and made me a better person, it was an exceedingly harsh way to teach me a lesson.”

Loki chuckles almost against his will. “Well, I suppose we may agree on that.” When Thor moves forward to clasp his hand, Loki does not flinch.

Thor smiles. “Alliances have begun from less, my brother.”

*  *  *

By the next morning, Loki has changed his mind. It seems matters with Thor and Frigga are well in hand, and if Odin will indeed let Loki free to wander the Realms as he (and Jane) will, it seems a poor plan to risk antagonizing the All-Father into rethinking his position.

At first it is only Jane who thinks he should at least _try_. “I don’t have much family left myself,” she says. “Dad is dead, I have no brothers or sisters, and Mom and I don’t speak. I guess she and I aren’t so different from you and Odin in that way.”

“You have made little effort to reconcile with your mother,” Loki points out, though he immediately regrets the cruelty of his words.

“You’re right, and I should do something about that. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try right now with Odin. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Imprisonment for the rest of my days?” Loki retorts. “Perhaps he’ll even have you thrown into the cell next door. He can be so _thoughtful_ when he chooses to be.”

Jane looks completely unimpressed as she attempts to scratch under her bandages without _actually_ scratching the healing flesh. “Oh _please_ , like your mother or Thor would let him do that. You saved Asgard _and_ Earth. Odin would come off as the worst hypocrite in the universe. Literally.”

“And what of my plot to set Laufey on Odin as the latter Slept? Or nearly killing Thor with the Destroyer?” he reminds her grimly.

“What about them?” Jane counters. “You weren’t in your right mind at the time – which one could argue Odin is partially responsible for – and besides, don’t they have a temporary insanity defense in Asgard?”

His little mortal makes some decent points.

There’s also this – Odin himself could be of use. Exactly how, Loki does not yet know. But if Loki and Jane are to have some kind of future together, Loki would obviously prefer to be on cordial terms with the one set to be Jane’s father-by-marriage.

This is how Loki finds himself before the one he used to call Father. 

Standing in these opulent, gilded rooms once more causes a strange welter of emotions within Loki’s breast – anxiety, fear, homesickness, nostalgia. Looking back, he must acknowledge that he and Odin had never been close. Not as close as Loki had felt to Frigga. He wonders now if it had anything to do with the fact that Loki had never been Asgardian, or with the fact he was more a magic-user than a traditional warrior, or a smidgen of both. Not that it matters; if any of those are indeed the source of that friction, then Odin is indeed a hypocrite, as Jane had labeled him. He’d always known what Loki was, and he himself oftentimes uses magic!

Odin, standing by the sweeping windows and heavy crimson drapes, looks at Loki but says nothing. 

Loki shifts from foot-to-foot, his thoughts now turning to the Casket as he waits on Odin. After bringing Jane from the brink of death Loki had lost consciousness himself, his reserves of life-force all but drained, and he had awoken in the healing rooms with the Casket nowhere to be found. He can only assume that the Palace Guard had collected the Casket and returned it to the Vault, something Loki has not yet found the time to confirm.

If it has been secreted there once more, does he dare try to steal it? He is fairly convinced he can magick himself into the Vault, grasp the Casket, and magick himself back out before either the Vault Guards or the Destroyer can react. _Doubtless Odin will not take kindly to such an action on my part._

Well, he will wait and see how this conversation with Odin proceeds. If Odin intends to have Loki’s head, Loki supposes his first responsibility is to collect Jane. After that, however….

The silence continues, becoming nearly a tangible thing between them, and finally Loki realizes it must - as always - fall to him to question Odin. But first he tries a request, testing the waters: “Once Jane is healed, we will depart Asgard. With your permission, of course, my King.” Loki allows sarcasm to creep into the end of that sentence. _Not ‘my father’._

Odin sighs, shoulders stooped as if by a great weight. “Must we always be at odds, Loki?”

“So it would seem,” Loki replies in a dry rasp, his earlier thinking recurring. “Why, do you fear a precipitous return to your Sleep?”

Somehow, he always proves unable to chain his anger in Odin’s presence. Put the two in one room, and he and Odin are fire and oil.

Irritation creases Odin’s forehead. “The longer I put off the Sleep, the more likely it is that a hardship will bring it upon me. This you know, though you have chosen to forget.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “Oh, but of course.”

Odin steps away from the windows, his face hard. “Say what you truly came to say, Loki.”

Loki pauses, collecting and discarding various versions of what he might utter. “I always thought I had to prove myself the worthy son – even before I knew why I was outcast in your eyes – but now I realize it is you who is not worthy of _me_.”

Odin draws himself up as tall as he can and opens his mouth to speak, but Loki speaks on relentlessly: “If I had known from the start what I was, and had I been treated with respect regardless of my blood, becoming King of Jotunheim may have been desirable to me. Or perhaps not. But by hiding this from me all my life, by letting me feel as if I were tainted without ever knowing the reason why, your little plan for me became the final punishment for not being your son by blood.”

“I thought,” Odin replies rustily, and even from here Loki can see the old man’s hands shaking slightly, though Loki forces himself to feel no remorse at all, “that you would be grateful for a chance to rule. That since the throne of Jotunheim is in fact yours by right-“

Loki laughs grimly. “By right? Laufey left me to die. I no more belong on Jotunheim than I do here.” 

“You will always persist in believing the worst of me,” Odin says, resigned. “There is little point then, to this discussion.”

So it is as Loki predicted; Odin will never admit his mistakes. 

_ Yet if Odin did apologize, would I even believe him? _ Loki is not at all certain. Odin has proven himself as adept as Loki in manipulation, has he not? The All-Father may claim to do such for the greater good of Asgard, and Loki for his own purposes, but they are alas not so unlike in that regard.

But he and Odin agree on one thing; this is pointless. While Frigga and Thor want Loki back however they can achieve such, Odin will only ever want his errant Jotun son back on _Odin’s_ terms. Loki has had quite enough of living his life on the All-Father’s terms.

“Yes, I agree,” Loki answers Odin, grateful that his voice is even and reasonable. “You never saw or valued me for myself, only for what you could get from me. And now that I will not be your puppet king of Jotunheim, you have no role or purpose for me to fulfill.

“I will never be what you want me to be. You can accept that or not, it matters little to me now. I will make my life what _I_ wish it to be, and it _will_ include the mortal Jane Foster,” and here, Odin looks deeply offended as he opens his mouth to speak, though once again Loki barrels on heedlessly: “whether you will it or not.”

He takes two steps forward, until he is nearly towering over the hunched form of the one he once called Father. “From this day forward, I may remain Frigga’s son and Thor’s brother. But even if that proves viable, that does not mean I will ever again be _your_ son.”

Loki turns on his heel and leaves, forcibly preventing himself from looking back over his shoulder. He is not sure whether the tears he thought he glimpsed in Odin’s eye should cause him to feel either triumph or failure.

*  *  *

Jane tries to grill Loki after he returns from his visit with Odin, but he refuses to talk it through with her.

“I…had an opportunity to say the things I would have said to him in the Vault, had he not fallen into the Sleep. But I do not think he counts me a friend, let alone a member of his family. Still, I think you are correct that he will not act against me, at least while Frigga and Thor count themselves my willing allies.”

“But-“ Jane prods.

“Later please, my love. I understand your concern, but those wounds are yet raw. I need _time_.”

Unwillingly Jane nods, but she’s not all that shocked by his reticence. This is, after all, the terrible lie that set the entire painful sequence of events in motion. Loki is not going to be able to instantly forgive anyone who he sees as accomplice to that.

Not for the first time, she wonders if Loki would benefit from seeing Doc Allen. Assuming he intends to take them back to Earth. Or to bring her back and then stay there with her. Another thing they haven’t really discussed. 

“Come,” he says, breaking into her thoughts. “I strongly suspect you no longer require these bandages. Let us see if I am correct.”

He sits down next to her on the bed and unpins the bandage on her left hand, slowly unwinding the linen strip.

Her hand emerges at last totally whole, and Jane flexes it carefully, hardly able to believe that she emerged unscathed. Loki smiles and unwraps her right hand, sitting back to watch as she curls and uncurls her fingers. 

“Asgardian medicine is pretty awesome,” she announces with a huge grin. “As is a certain mischievous someone’s magic. Under duress.” She adds dryly.

Loki chuckles and wraps the bandages in a large ball which he chucks against the wall next to the entry doors, and Jane resists rolling her eyes again. Different rules here, right. It’s OK to throw crap on the floor, a servant will take care of it-

His fingers slide over her hands, Jane’s skin tingling at the contact.

His hands are cold.

Jane closes her eyes and she can picture his face as Thanos strangled him. The blue skin, the red eyes, the ridges…

She wants to see that face again, to let him know that unlike his adopted father, she accepts him – _all_ aspects of him – even as another part of her argues that it’s probably a mistake to push him.

_ Then again, hasn’t he already shown me his Frost Giant form? Thanos made it happen and Loki can’t claim that I didn’t see it, that I don’t know what I’m asking him to show me.  _

Because it usually seems to work best for her, she decides to take the direct route. “Loki, it’s time. No more stalling. I want to _see_ you. The real you, I mean.”

His fingers tighten slightly on her skin. Is it just her imagination that they turn even colder? “No. By Yggdrasil, _no_. Why would you want to see the monster? Have you forgotten how you reacted-?”

“I’ve explained that to you before,” she interrupts. “It was a memory of a horrible hallucination from The Other that I was reacting to. That’s _all_. And I was freaking half out of my mind already. It’s not fair to use that as an excuse.” She takes a deep breath. “I want to _see_ ,” she repeats firmly.

Predictably he releases her hands and gets up from the bed. Jane half expects him to storm out, but instead he paces back and forth in front of her, his movements quick and agitated.

He laughs mirthlessly, his gaze sliding away from hers. “You wish yet more fuel for your nightmares, Jane Foster?”

“Fuck _that_ ,” she exclaims, and the force of her words stops him dead in his tracks. “I’m not buying your ‘I’m a monster’ crap. If this is because you _look_ different, well, so what? I’ll bet the fire giants and light and dark elves and some of those other aliens you told me about do, too. Heck, there’s an entire _planet_ of people who look like you-”

“Not like me,” he rasps out, pacing again. “Or have you forgotten? I am a _malformed_ Jotun. Discarded at birth for being too small.”

“Then they’re complete and total morons,” Jane pronounces, “because you kick ass. Clearly. And besides, you seem plenty tall to _me_.”

His answering smile is bitter. “You have never seen a true Frost Giant.”

“I’m shorter than you,” she points out. “But obviously that doesn’t reflect my worth. Or have you been lying to me all these months about how much you value my intellect?”

Loki stops to glare at her. “I have not. Very well, let us assume that it is not the…peculiarities of my face and body which are so horrible. The Jotuns are a brutal, barbaric race, and I have done little to prove myself above them. As Odin and Director Fury, and no doubt countless denizens of your New York, and even those of accursed Jotunheim, will agree!” he shouts.

Jane scowls back, refusing to be intimidated by his anger. She’s dared to stand up to Thanos, for Chrissakes, she’s not going to let one of Loki’s temper tantrums sway her. “Just because you’re Jotun, that doesn’t make you evil. Yes, sure, you’ve done some bad things, even terrible things, but that’s a _separate_ thing.”

“Not to mention you’re capable of acts of self-sacrifice and selflessness. Did you hit the pause button on being Jotun when you came to rescue me from The Other? Or when you chose to try to take on Thanos, even though you knew in your bones that the chances of defeating him, even with help, might have been slim?”

He stops pacing, coming to stand in the middle of the room. “Very well,” he says through gritted teeth. “Since you seem unwilling to be convinced otherwise, stubborn fool that you are, it seems I have little choice left. Feast your eyes.”

It starts in his face, his eyes turning blood-red and his skin pale blue, the ridges weaving themselves across his body as the alien coloration spreads. Jane releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, their eyes locked as Loki, his expression both upset and angry as he pulls in jerky movements at the lacing of his shirt. “I’m sure you want to see _all_ , don’t you, Doctor Jane Foster of Midgard?”

He seems right on the edge, so Jane stays silent, watching as he strips off his shirt. Then Jane gasps in dismay, her hand going to her mouth.

Loki seems almost gleeful in the face of her reaction. “Oh, but that’s just the start. Wait but a moment-“ His boots hit the floor one after the other with a dull slap, and then he peels off the tight leather trousers to reveal the rest of him. He tosses those to the floor angrily, then stands tall, completely revealed.

But Jane is distracted by the sudden change that has happened in the room. The temperature must have dropped by at least twenty degrees. She wraps her arms around her shivering body, her breath misting out.

_ Frost Giant, right. Hey, wait just a second- _

“If t-t-this,” she says through chattering teeth, “is wh-wh-what happens-“ _Christ, is it getting even colder?_ She grabs for a blanket from the foot of the bed, wrapping it around herself though it does little to warm her. Her fingertips already seem blue, or maybe that’s just the blue of the blanket. Is he going to freeze her to death in revenge for her-

He tilts his head, his expression softening a little in the face of her extreme comfort. He closes his eyes, his skin turning slightly darker blue, and Jane feels the air starting to warm, her shivers decreasing.

Within seconds it’s still very cool in the room, but much better than before. With an effort, sensing how Loki will jump on any flicker of revulsion, she keeps her expression neutral. “Thanks. As I was trying to say, if Jotun bodies create this kind of cold, I don’t understand how an _illusion_ would stop that. How you could’ve been touching me all this time and not turned me into a Jane-sicle. Or given frostbite to Thor or any of the rest of them.” 

He blinks, her calm, curious reaction obviously unexpected. “The All-Father is powerful,” he says with a shrug. “His illusion made me not only look different, but chained the cold so it was kept deep inside me, away from the surface.”

“But Thanos ruined that illusion, you told me.”

Loki nods, the action slow and unwilling. “He did, but while you healed, I had some time to realize I had conscious control over how much cold would exude from my flesh. Then I could chain it once more, this time using my own magic, and to reclaim the Asgardian face which is mine.” He looks down at his nude body with hate. “This body, this face, are not mine. It is not me, does not _feel_ like me. Can you not understand, my love?” 

He’s pleading with her, but even someone as clueless about psychology as Jane thinks she is knows how important it is not to sweep this under the rug, as he’s been doing for far too long. “It’s a part of you. Denying it won’t make it any less a part of you.”

Loki’s lip curls, but Jane adds: “Has denying it been working so far for you?” She lets him chew on that as she gets up from the bed, deliberately tossing the blanket away, and she approaches him slowly, her eyes tracing over the marks on his flesh that made her gasp in horror moments ago.

She stops right in front of him. Despite his efforts, it’s noticeably chillier in close proximity to him like this, and goose-bumps paint Jane’s arm as she reaches cautiously towards his belly and the ugly, blackened burns. “May I?” She means, is it safe to touch him without risking frostbite, but she dares not say it.

He nods, those unsettling red eyes watching her like a hawk, as she brushes her fingers over one ridged mass of scar tissue. To her untrained eye it definitely does look like a burn, and there’s so _damned_ many of them. There aren’t any right on his face, but several start their ridged, dark trails just under his jaw, making horizontal lines across and wrapping around to disappear behind his neck, bisecting all the little blue ridges that seem to be part of his Jotun heritage. 

Another mass of trails starts on his belly, the largest number of them, all birthing from the middle of his abdomen and, just like the ones on his neck, running mostly horizontally around him to disappear behind his back. But the ones that truly make Jane shudder are the marks even lower, some twisting across Loki’s thighs, some disappearing into the dark curling mass of his pubic hair, and one or two that even mar the base of his limp shaft.

“Thanos?” Jane asks softly. 

“Yes. His serpents and their acid left lasting scars. I was able to heal to a certain extent, but…” he shrugs. 

Jane looks up at him, tears spilling from the bottoms of her eyes, and he looks surprised and even more confused by the compassion in her face. “Do…do they hurt?” she asks, gently laying her hand over his belly. His skin is cold, colder than she expected, but the thick scars feel slightly warmer, and something about that makes her vaguely nauseous.

He shakes his head slightly, crimson gaze never leaving hers. “No. A twinge from time to time. Mainly they are an eye-sore, but then again, so is the rest of me in this abominable form. I am fortunate that I am a master of illusion, for many reasons.” He bares his teeth but it’s more grimace than smile.

Jane shakes her head, but somehow she knows her words just aren’t getting through. She needs another way to tell him that it’s OK, that she accepts all of him even if he doesn’t yet accept it himself. 

She catches his hand in hers and pulls. His eyes narrow suspiciously but he allows her to draw him across the room and back towards the bed.

Not saying anything further, Jane sits down, slides her hands up to cup over the sharp planes of his hips…and takes him gently into her mouth.

He gasps and his hands twitch towards her. He doesn’t seem to know what he wants to do, whether to touch her or to stop her. “Jane, by Yggdrasil, what are you-?”

 

_ I think it’s pretty fucking damned _ obvious _what I’m doing,_ she thinks, trying to convey that with her eyes as she looks up at him. Then she closes them, concentrating.

His length is soft at first, which Jane knows is just another sign of how much he despises this body. But she knows him well after so long together, and as she hopes, he may look different, but he still likes what he likes. Rubbing her tongue on the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock earns the same gasp from his mouth, taking him as deep into her mouth as she can still makes him twine his fingers in her hair, even if they feel much colder than normal.

He tastes and smells different. _Winter made flesh_ , she thinks. A mouthful of snow which doesn’t burn, the scent of cold and ice, and the clear air at the tops of mountains, if Jane had to try to put words to it. 

There’s one other change too, which becomes more evident as Loki becomes more aroused. Those Jotun lines and ridges are apparently not limited to his torso, head, and limbs. They circle both his shaft and the swelling head, and when Jane traces them with her tongue, he gives a little whimper. When she drags her teeth lightly over them, his hands tighten involuntarily in her hair. She opens her eyes then, and he’s looking down at her, his mouth open as he pants, those strange eyes dazed and aroused and completely disbelieving.

She lets him go, and he swallows convulsively and with an uncharacteristic clumsiness, works his fingers lose from her hair. He licks his lips, his voice low and gravelly when he says: “Jane. I-“

“Shut up,” she orders firmly. She pushes him gently back – and he lets her – so she can stand up and start to strip herself. “I’m done hearing you put yourself down right now.” She pulls off her slippers, tossing them to lie near to his boots.

“How many times have you told me I can choose to set old attitudes aside, if I want to?  Well, you can do exactly the same thing, about _this_.” She flaps her hand to encompass his entire tall form. Granted, he’d meant she could be more open to things in the sexual arena, but Jane is completely convinced (and she’s one-hundred-percent sure that Doc Allen would agree) that the same principle holds here.”

“Jane-“

“No. Shut UP. And come help me with this damned belt. You Asgardians and your complicated _fucking_ knots,” Jane complains, wrenching at the stubborn belt at her hips.

The cold intensifies slightly as Loki steps closer, but Jane doesn’t care about that. There’s a contrasting heat inside her at the thought of those _ridges_ and how they might feel inside her…

Loki looks equal parts befuddled, amused, and still disbelieving as he gently moves her fingers aside and undoes the knot with practiced ease. Jane throws the belt away with a curse and starts to pull the voluminous dress over her head, aware of Loki helping.

Jane quickly peels off the remaining things she’s wearing – the Asgardian equivalent of a bra and panties – and deliberately runs a slow hand up Loki’s belly to his chest, and then wraps it around his neck as much as she can reach. He opens his mouth again to say something, but Jane is already pulling him down into her kiss.

He hesitates one final endless moment, then his arms snake around her, pulling her tight against him, his lips slanting across hers. His touch is cold enough to make her flesh prickle, her nipples hardening almost painfully. She winds her fingers tightly in the curtain of his black hair – the only thing he seems to have retained from his Asgardian mask – and slips her tongue into the frigid cave of his mouth. His teeth seem sharper than before and she has to be more careful kissing him than usual, though she manages to avoid giving herself the tongue equivalent of a paper cut, her breath once more misting between them as they stop for air. _His_ breath isn’t misting, she notices. Weird and wonderful.

She licks her slightly numbed lips, savoring the new frosted taste of him as Loki lifts her up (his strength unchanged too) and puts her in the middle of the dark green velvety cover, sliding himself up along her body at a speed that pulls a moan out of her.

Icy fingers lace around her wrists and pin them to the bed next to her waist, and an even colder tongue lashes at her earlobe. Jane gasps, and he laughs low and familiarly into her ear. “Yes, do _squirm_ for me.”

The kisses he leaves down her neck and along her collarbone tingle long after his mouth has moved on. He kisses the scar over her heart, lingering to lick the straight, roughened line of it with a slickly wet tongue.

Sharp teeth scrape the side of her breast though she trusts him enough to know he won’t hurt her. It doesn’t stop the garbled cry she makes when those cold though flexible lips trap a nipple and suck hard. 

“Loki-“ she gasps when he exhales a freezing breath on her damp skin.

“You like that, do you not?” he murmurs, red eyes boring into hers.

“I’m not sure,” she lies with a brief laugh. “Touch me some more, I need to gather more data.” She finishes with her best sultry, heavy-lidded look, and he laughs right back.

“If that is what is required,” he purrs, tongue snaking out to draw a cold circle on the areola of the other breast.

Jane can feel sweat beading on her body, slipping over and between each goose-bump. Warmth seems to live under her cold skin, stoked by every frigid touch.

He keeps his grip on her wrists even as he shifts with graceful agility down, sliding a hip between her thighs to coax them open for him, which Jane does with no hesitation. Only then does he change things, trapping both her hands against her belly with one hand while he frees the other to toy with the little curls on her mound.

His breath curls in freezing puffs against her inner thigh, and he chuckles before licking the goose-flesh they cause. It feels even colder when he turns his head, his long fingers parting her so the coolness strokes over her hot skin. “So wet for me,” he whispers, and Jane can hear the wonder in his voice.

Any retort she could possibly think of making breaks off when he grazes his fingers against her entrance. She pushes her hips up in silent invitation, and he takes it, though he only invades her with a single long glacial digit at first, as if making sure her body will accept him.

“Oh God,” she moans. He’s so _cold_ , and damn does it feel good. Her toes curl and dig into the cover. “Don’t _stop_.”

For once he actually obeys her, sliding another finger in. Jane thinks she’ll sit up and punch him if he dares to pull one of his slow teases now – it’s been too bloody long, and there’s been too many terrible moments, and she just wants to forget everything for a few mind-numbingly wonderful seconds – and he must want that as badly as her, because his slow thrusts become faster, deeper, his wicked mouth moving eagerly between her legs.

Jane arches and moans, unable to process what she’s feeling; he must be using some kind of magic, with one teasing circle of his tongue on her clit feeling utterly frosty, and the next so warm it sends shivers over her entire body. Then he’ll stop to breathe cold air on her wet flesh, and Jane gives him the squirming he loves so dearly.

Before she can beg, his mouth drops back onto her, slow cold circle, slow hot circle, then he suckles her nub, his mouth cold but the tongue flicking around feels warm again, and it’s too much, she can’t hold back any longer, crying out her pleasure as the blizzard of hot and cold slams into her senses.

He lies beside her on the bed, pulling her overheated body to rest against his cold one, and Jane rests her forehead on his shoulder while she tries to catch her breath. His length is pressing persistently against her thigh, faintly throbbing, and his breath catches audibly in his throat as she cups her hand around it, lightly tracing a ridge with her fingers.

The ridges are fairly pronounced, and yet…Jane sighs with disappointment, looking up to meet Loki’s puzzled gaze. “Did I not-? Did I mistake your climax somehow-“ and Jane sighs again, but only in her own mind this time, at how easily Loki expects her to find flaws in him.

“No, that was completely amazing. Totally _and_ completely. But I was just thinking that these ridges of yours-“ she traces one gently, “-would probably feel very... _interesting_. So it’s a shame we have to cover them up with a condom.”

Loki tilts his head, his voice quiet as he answers. “Well, we do not actually _have_ to.”

It’s Jane’s turn to blink in confusion. “Huh?”

“I am a mage of no small ability,” he says, a shadow of his old arrogant self re-emerging. “Thus it would be a relatively simple matter to ensure that my seed will not take root inside you. And needless to say, as a god I am not subject to those diseases that you humans are so prone to, which are exchanged through sexual congress. So there would be little harm to you in forgoing your ‘protection’, as you call it.”

Jane gapes at him. “You mean, all this time we’ve been using condoms and we didn’t have to? Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

Blue lids lower over red eyes, his long lashes (also retained from his Asgardian face, Jane notices) veiling them as he considers. “At first, it was because it seemed so very important to you. It was the only thing you insisted on during the first time I bedded you, so clearly it was of great importance to you. And I suppose I felt I had not yet earned enough of your trust to try to convince you that such was not needed. That it was a small sacrifice to make for your comfort.”

“And later?”

A shrug. “Inertia, I suppose. It was a part of our love-making, and sometimes helpful.” He pulls one of his half-smiles, and Jane just knows he’s thinking about their virgin-sacrifice game.

_ Makes sense, _ Jane thinks. He doesn’t put up a fight as Jane pushes him onto his back and climbs atop him, reaching between them to stroke the cold hardness of him. “Do you need to like, cast a spell first, or something?”

He closes his eyes, his ridged brow furrowing slightly. “It is done.” His eyes track down her bared body before he gives his trademark predator’s smirk. “And I, for one, will be glad not to have that sheath between me and your slick, silken quim.”

Jane snorts. “Such a sweet-talker, Silvertongue.” The tongue in question comes out to sweep across his lower lip as his hands settle on her waist. 

“I believe I am done with words for the time being,” he declares, narrowing his eyes at her.

“About time,” Jane quips, pumping her hand along his shaft one more time – he shudders and pushes his hips up into her – before guiding the icy head between her legs. 

“Oh God,” she grits out between clenched teeth. She’s pretty sure he’s about as big as he always is, but the cold invading her heat and those devilish little ridges catching tantalizing on every nerve she has…she shudders, and Loki’s hands move beneath her thighs to steady her as she moves slowly, sinking down, getting used to the feel of him this way.

To buy some time, Jane leans forward, tracing the pads of her fingers along the ridges adorning his forehead. Then the ones on the angles of his cheeks, along his neck, and down across his chest, avoiding the poison burns. Occasionally she squeezes her muscles around him just to watch his eyes glaze over, his defenses stripped away by pleasure. 

She explores the designs on his shoulders, arms and hands, then decides she’s had enough time to get as used as she can to the feeling that there’s an icicle inside her. Not that she’s disliking that feeling; quite the opposite.

His eyes drift closed as Jane starts to move, though they’re both soon panting in rhythm. The slow, wintry caress of him inside her sends sharp prickles of hot and cold over her entire body, sparking through her, driving her to move faster and harder.

“I love you,” Jane whispers suddenly, between ragged breaths, because she can’t hold in the truth, _her_ truth, any longer. “Do you hear me, Loki? I love you no matter what face you wear.”

He doesn’t answer her, at least not verbally, but in a whirl of blue she is beneath, his arms braced on the mattress on either side of her as his weight and his thrusts force the breath from her lungs.

He’s heavy and cold and the raised designs all over his body tease at her as his skin rubs up against hers with each thrust, and the ridges inside him are chafing her in the best way, igniting the fire inside her into a fever. There’s even a ridge positioned just right to chafe over her clit, faster and faster as his teeth squeeze tight together and his eyes pin her to the bed, his skin cold enough to make hers prickle.

“Come for me, Jane. Come now!” he snarls, and she does, but not before she screams his name, climaxing in shuddering pulses.

She expects him to follow after her, but he doesn’t. He withdraws, those evil little ridges nearly tugging a second orgasm out of her, and the temperature in the room plummets as he wraps a hand around himself. A few sharp strokes and he comes too, the fluids turning instantly to ice as they splash on the sheets.

“Wha-“ Jane tries to question him, the arctic atmosphere in the room barely bothering her in her overheated state, though her breath smokes enough to conceal his face for a moment.

She shakes her head to clear it, and then the room abruptly warms, the Asgardian illusion creeping across Loki’s body again.

She’s too sated to protest when he lifts her from the bed and peels back the covers. “Who would have guessed it would take my Jotun form to coax you into screaming my name at last, Jane Foster? How deliciously unpredictable you are.”

Jane tries again to make her brain and throat and mouth work properly. “Why did you-“

“Withdraw?” He settles down on the mattress, pulling Jane against his chest and laying the covers over them both. “I feared if I lost my concentration I would freeze you solid. You mortals are so fragile. But fear not, I am sure there is some other alternative, assuming you will wish to do this again in the future.”

At which point Jane smacks him on the arm. “Don’t be an idiot. Of course I will!” Then she feels like a heel, because when she looks up at his face, silent tears are dripping from his eyes.

Jane holds him close as he buries his face against her shoulder. He cries for a long time.

She waits until he’s quiet again, except for the harsh rasp of his breathing. “I love you,” she says again.

He says nothing for a long time. Which is fine, Jane isn’t at all surprised that someone with a reputation as a liar might not be so open to expressing his feelings verbally, especially when the feelings are _real_.

When Loki does answer her, though, the emotion behind it is as clear as if he had echoed her words back at her.

“Only for _you_ ,” he says. 

She doesn’t know if he means saving her, or showing her this side of himself, or something else that hasn’t occurred to her.

But Jane knows with total certainty what truth is hidden under of all those.

*  *  *

Even though Jane’s hands are totally healed, Loki does not seem to be in any immediate hurry to leave. Frankly, neither is Jane. She’s spent a lot of time and energy on building her portal, and now that she knows it works – and that she probably has a _ton_ of work to do to get it operational again – she’s not in any rush.

Not to mention she has a bad feeling that Fury will want a full debriefing once Jane gets back to Earth, and she’s not really looking forward to any further interrogations from him.

So a day passes, during which Loki shows her the rest of the Palace. Then another day, where he takes her out into the wilder areas beyond the city proper, for a stargazing session and ‘camping out’, though Jane thinks that having a small army of servants waiting on them and tending to their every need kind of negates the ‘roughing it’ thing.

The third day, however, Loki seems unusually quiet and still after the servants have cleared away the remains of breakfast.

“Loki, what is it?” she asks at last.

“I have been considering replacing your torc, but then this morning I realized the obvious first choice. _This_.” A wave of his hand, and he plucks something from thin air to show her.

Jane remembers this item, the ring made up of two enameled snakes gripping a diamond (or similar gem). The ring he offered her when he first proposed marriage to her, and she refused.

“Will you marry me, Jane Foster of Midgard,” here, he smirks slightly, “Death-killer?”

She rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Not _you_ , too! On the Death thing, I mean,” she clarifies hastily as he frowns. 

“As to the other thing, the _marriage_ thing,” she continues, groping for the right words, “…I will, but…not yet, OK?”

He stares at her, before his expression turns mutinous. “Why not?”

“Why? Because, well, I don’t really know you, do I?”

“What nonsense is  _ that _ ?” he sputters. 

“It’s not nonsense!” Jane answers defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.  
“I mean, yes, I know what you enjoy…in  _ bed _ . And I know something about your recent history. But your likes and dislikes in general? What you do for fun when you’re not fighting bad guys? I don’t know what hobbies you enjoy, what kind of books you like to read, your favourite colour-“ She glances around the room. “Well, OK, I can probably guess that one.” 

Loki scoffs. “And you think all that minutia is _at all_ relevant?” 

Jane shakes her head, still trying to make him understand. “Look, we haven’t been together for more than six months. And you have to admit it’s been kinda, well,  _ dramatic _ . I mean, with all the kidnappings and battles and opening wormholes. I think I just want to let things kind of settle down. Calm down, you know? And then we can actually see if, I don’t know, if we actually can get along, without all these crazy distractions and…insanely destructive family issues.” 

It’s his turn to cross his arms, his eyes narrowed and his mouth turned down. 

“Look, I’m not saying I won’t marry you, OK? Just…I need some time. I don’t know about Asgard, but few Midgardian marriages do well when the people have only known each other relatively briefly, like us.” She laughs uncomfortably. “Just ask Darcy, she  _ loves _ ‘TMZ’ and all that crap.” 

Loki is silent a long moment, and Jane looks down at her hands anxiously. “I f your refusal is because of my past attacks on Midgard….I am truly sorry. In one instance I was not in my right mind, and in any case it was more of an attack on Thor, with Midgard as an unfortunate casualty. In my second attack however, while Midgard _was_ the target, I strongly believed that was the best route at the time. But if I were to face such a decision now, I do not think I would make the same one.”

Jane shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s me you have to apologize to for that. And besides, that’s not the issue.”

She hopes he doesn’t press her on the real issue. Yes, what she told him about not knowing him for that long is a factor, that’s not a lie. But in her heart, she knows that’s not the full story. 

It’s more that there’ve been so many huge changes and events in her life lately. Her portal research coming to full fruition, Loki revealing his true face to her at last, the threat of Thanos no longer hanging over both their heads…she feels like she’s barely had time to process it all, and now there’s this, and everything that will come with it. Will Frigga and Odin accept her as Loki’s wife? Will Thor? How will SHIELD react? Will she live here or on Earth? What about children (assuming he wants any)? What will this mean for her ongoing research (assuming there is any)?

It’s enough to make her want to crawl into Loki’s lush bed and pull the ridiculously heavy covers over her head. 

But she’s sure if she verbalizes all this, it will seem like a really lame excuse.  Especially to Loki, who would probably _adore_ the chance to scheme a solution to every last problem, if there are any.

“You claim to love me,” he says, sounding confused and angry, and that alone makes her resolve waver. “If you love me, should we not be married? Is that not the logical next step? I believe that is typical even on Midgard.”

“I do!” she insists. “I do love you. I just…” She shakes her head helplessly, looking down at her hands again.

“What are you proposing instead, then?” he asks at last, sounding resigned. “Do you wish to suspend our…association?”

“God,  _ no _ !” She says sharply, her head snapping up to stare at him, her heart pounding anxiously. “Are you even _listening_ to me?  I’m not saying never. Just…not right now. Haven’t you learned anything about human beings, Loki? We have this thing called ‘dating’. Where people go out together, have fun, learn new things about each other? Before they take their wedding vows?”

Loki rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “That is no different than courtship. And why must I court you? Are you not already mine?”

“Yes, but…” Jane looks down again at her hands.  _ I’m not ready, _ she thinks.  _ Maybe I should just tell him that. _

But instead she allows the silence to stretch between them, while she scrabbles for an excuse he will accept. Maybe she _should_ tell him she’s not ready.

“Very well, Jane Foster,” he says, before Jane is able to muster her courage. “We will engage in this Midgardian ‘dating’ ritual.” 

He makes the ring vanish with a curl of his fingers and stands, walking around the table to pull her up with him. “But our first ‘date’ will be a place and time of  _ my  _ choosing.” 

Jane huffs. “Anybody ever tell you how bossy you are?” But she smiles. 

“It may have been brought to my attention once or twice in the past,” he agrees, a smile tugging at his lips.

She snuggles against his chest and closes her eyes. “I’ll just  _ bet _ .”

“I prefer to think of it as one of my many attributes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why Jane, you sound entirely unconvinced.”

“Yeah, that’s really observant of you.”

He leans down to her level, and she can feel his smile pressed to the curve of her cheek.

“Perhaps you would prefer me to remind you of several of my _other_ attributes,” he purrs.

Jane feigns disinterest. “If you have time in your busy schedule, sure, why not?”

They don’t emerge from his rooms until well past what Asgardians apparently consider a decent supper hour.


End file.
